


The strangeness of us

by Tarasque



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Addiction, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Finn's past, Force Bonds, M/M, Nightmares, Poe/one night stand, Slow Burn, begins during TFA, flight manoeuvers, sentient droids, that begins not so slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 76,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarasque/pseuds/Tarasque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn is drowning in a world of unknown, because nobody has been an ex-Stormtrooper before him. But maybe he's stronger than that.<br/>Poe Dameron is a genuinely nice, caring and open guy. But that's a great dating strategy and an excellent cover when he feels like he's breaking.<br/>They've only known each other for two days, so how could they even begin to understand?</p><p>And now that the first two days are past, it looks like we're in for the long haul, people. Well, buckle your seat and hold my hand while I try not to let you down with the plot.</p><p>... Because, of course, now that that monster is over 60,000 words long, there's more. Beginning to understand each other doesn't mean they don't make mistakes, and that others around them understand. The Resistance base might not be such a welcoming place any more, not for Finn, and not even for Poe...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, all right, there are two WIPs in another fandom that I love very much and have left by themselves far too long. Work, life, and all that.  
> This here is the result of the combination of winter holidays and Star Wars. Hope my motivation keeps strong, because I don't know how to write something short.
> 
> Also, still not a native speaker and this thing down there is un-betaed. So if you notice anything weird don't hesitate to mention it! Really.  
> Hope you like!

That was weird, being an ex-Stormtrooper, and living to tell the tale. Was he – had there ever been another one? Finn sighed. If there’d ever been one, they wouldn’t have wanted to tell that particular tale, anyway.

He certainly didn’t want to.

Was doing his best not to remember most of it.

Even he couldn’t find much else to define who he was.

He’d fled an army of men with minds so calibrated they thought as one. They obeyed as one, bent to a purpose he could never completely follow in spite of a whole life of conditioning. Maybe that purpose was evil or it was the last hope of this galaxy, maybe it did stem from a fundamental truth of the universe or maybe it was the half-mad dream of a handful of Empire nostalgics – he didn’t care, never had. But the singlemindedness of it took even common decency away from every soldier. Took away the interest for others. The need for friends. The care for one’s own life. Took away humanity.

Finn didn’t know what glitch in the program had made him cling to some shards of empathy, but they’d been enough for him to stand here, watching Ren’s retreating shuttle and the smoking ruins of Maz Kanata’s keep. He’d fled a single-minded army to stumble into the Resistance, who were people with beliefs. And purpose. And talks of Good, Evil and the fundamental truths of the universe. It didn’t feel he belonged with them any more than he’d belonged with the First Order.

His right hand went to rest on the sleeve of his jacket, felt the soft, well-worn leather. His own sweat was beginning to mix with the original smell of the garment, which had been mostly smoke and behind that motor oil, a plastic-y note that probably came from the cockpit of a fighter, and the hint of the other man’s scent. Poe.

Poe, gone, and soon that very faint smell would be gone, too.

He was Finn. Human, male. Beyond that, a man who was choosing to wipe away all he’d been, who owned the total sum of one scavenged jacket, one lightsaber he couldn’t use well enough, one living friend – he wanted to call her friend, even with the very scant practice he’d had of the concept – that he’d just witnessed being taken by Ren, one name offered to him by a dead man.

Being an ex-stormtrooper felt like floating away, or drifting. Maybe drowning.

The Resistance X-Wings taking flight managed to catch his attention – again. One, in front, made an exact white line as it skimmed the water, its trajectory perfect. Even to Finn’s inexpert eyes, the handling looked spotless, without any overcompensation or unneeded acceleration, the moves so smooth it looked like the landscape moved around the wings, not the other way around. He fancied he could identify that fighter, the same that had flown down and shot so accurately only minutes before.

Poe. Poe would have piloted like that, his control so perfect it bordered on showy. But Poe was dead.

A ready smile on sinuous –sensual – lips flashed in Finn’s memory. A warm voice, warm eyes. Had Poe been a friend, too, in that hour between their escape and his death? He had the feeling it could have been something else.

“Come on, Big Deal, time to board.” That was the old pirate and his big ball of hair – and that Resistance general, Leia Organa.

He felt a twinge of hope at that. “Going for Rey?” he asked.

“Rey,” echoed Organa. “Not yet.” Her lips set in a strange, twitchy line and for the time of a heartbeat her expression went remote, terribly sad, and Finn thought this wasn’t about Rey.

Solo extended a hand across the general’s waist, nodded, smiled that crooked smirk of his and said: “we regroup. Make plans. We’re going to the Resistance base. I’m not forgetting Rey.”

The three of them turned on their heels towards the Millenium Falcon. The wookie was hugging his injured arm. General Organa walked on, a small, slightly squat figure with tense shoulders and a head held straight, her hand on Han Solo’s lower back. Solo towered beside her, his strides a little stiff, the wind toying with his white hair.

Legends, the three of them. Their faces plastered in each of the startrooper quarters with an injunction to take them at any price, alive. Finn sighed. It looked like he was on their side, now.

/

The Falcon had landed first, possibly because the general was in it, more probably because Solo did how he chose.

Finn stood on the tarmac, alone in a whirlpool of machines, running people and beeping droids. It had to be an organised whirlpool, but to this former First Order trooper it wasn’t only a little overwhelming. Aliens, so many of them, mingling with Humans. Humans of every shape, uncalibrated, all gloriously imperfect, some too old, some too young, some very small and some very tall, some overweight and some very thin, some dirty, many men quite scruffy. Colours, everywhere, not one uniform exactly the same, utilitarian overalls beside flowing scarves, skins of every tone from purple to orange or deep black. Songs, shouts, orders, laughing. Exclamations at the sight of the Millenium Falcon.

A crowd rushing towards the area where X-Wings were about to land.

And there it was again, that X-Wing he couldn’t help watching, landing, of course, perfectly, the cockpit opening.

Finn caught the pilot’s very faint swaying only because he couldn’t have looked harder. Then Poe Dameron – Poe! – was on the ground, helmet off and smiling to people, swaggering like he owned the place.

Poe caught Finn’s eye, hastened towards him. Took his hands. Hugged him, which felt enjoyable and overwhelming and strange. Finn was exclaiming and the other answering, explanations about his escape from Jakku but Finn was barely registering over the clamour in his mind shouting “alive! Alive!” and that was the only thing he wanted to say, “you’re alive, you’re alive,” and also “go rest, you look like shit,” because under the bold, happy countenance he could see the exertion, dark rims under the eyes and the bruise on his temple turning purple black, only his mouth had forgotten how to work and his hands were getting to remove Poe’s jacket, because who was he, Finn, no last name, ex-stormtrooper, to keep something that belonged to this golden pilot who was, so gloriously, back among the living?

But Poe was stopping his hands, his hooded eyes opening wider, looking straight into Finn’s. “Keep it,” he said, lowering his eyes to give him what Finn would have sworn was a once over. “It suits you. You’re a good man.”

The eyes went back up, fixing themselves not on Finn’s own, but on his mouth. And Finn couldn’t help focusing in return on Poe’s damnable sinuous lips, which he was – biting? And now shaping into an open, if slightly wistful smile.

Definitely something else than friendship, thought Finn fervently. Definitely. Because he might be lost without his Stormtrooper shell, and hesitant when it came to friends, but he wasn’t that naïve. He hoped.

Then Poe was away after a last pat on Finn’s arm, called by another pilot, walking towards medical help or debriefing or a shower and that last thought didn’t help at all the warmth that was spreading in Finn’s body. “A good man,” Poe had said, and maybe, just maybe he could begin to feel like he belonged to this place and to these people.

/

“You the Stormtrooper?” said a female voice from behind.

Finn clenched his jaws, then made himself unclench them, smiled, turned around. She was slight, fair-skinned and black-haired, in a pilot suit.

“Ex-stormtrooper,” he said.

“A First Order deserter, may the Force be with us,” she said with a slow smile. “Got a name? A number?”

“Finn.” _Thanks to Poe_ , he thought, still riding his personal wave of happiness, _thanks to Poe._

“I understood stormtroopers didn’t get names.”

She was not interested in the answer, he realised. She looked slightly tired, with more than a hint of anger, and she was trying to rile him up. He breathed in, still smiling through, thinking of giving her back what he’d just gotten. “Yeah? And how exactly did you _understand_ that?”

She looked suddenly tenser, hunched. Older. “Through unfortunate circumstances,” she said, her voice flat. “Fucking unfortunate.” She exhaled, slowly. “Sorry. I often go down a little strongly after a mission. Shouldn’t have gotten at you. Nothing personal.”

He sighed. “Sorry,” he echoed. “I should have known not to push, either. And you were right. I’ve been a number for most of my life, got christened not long ago.” He smiled, his best defence. “Finn was Poe’s idea, I liked it.”

“Poe, eh? And that’s his jacket you’re wearing.” She grinned again, not too nicely, a little too knowingly.

“He let me wear it!” Finn needed to explain, feeling his ears go warm and grateful for his dark skin.

“You wouldn’t wear it any other way, him alive,” she said, her smile becoming wolfish. “And let’s stop there. We should both find something to eat. Get some rest. I don’t think you got out of that Destroyer with your toothbrush, did you?” She made an aborted hand movement towards the jacket. “Nor your clothes, obviously. Well, there’s a cantina over there, food’s, erm, warm. Usually. And down there above hangar number 42 you’ll find Meno Kosth, who will scrap a few things together for you and find some arrangement for your sleeping quarters.”

With that, she left towards the cantina, which made him decide to drift towards hangar 42 first. For a toothbrush. For the bedding arrangement, he couldn’t help harbouring other hopes, however vague. Anyway, it wasn’t as he was settling here. They were going after Rey, and soon, weren’t they?

But putting his hands on a toothbrush didn’t take enough time, it seemed.

She was exiting the cantina as he came in, talking animatedly to someone, and because Finn’s good luck seemed to be all spent that someone was Poe.

They were getting out, he was coming in by the other door, and it wasn’t Finn’s fault the cantina walls were so flimsy that the woman’s voice carried through, high pitched and animated. And if Finn sat himself pressed to the wall, so that he could hear Poe’s lower veiled tones – well, he liked that voice, and he’d plead guilty. But then, wasn’t he allowed some interest in the man who had first seen him beyond the Stormtrooper uniform, trusted him with his life, made a person out of a past-less renegade?

The conversation, it seemed, turned around the woman’s dating strategies, which involved complex reorganising of the pilots’ schedules, Poe exchanging his turn at hangar duties and taking a bet on the final outcome.

“I mean,” he was saying, “You’ve been after him for three red moons and you’re still not sure he fancies humans!”

“We’ll see, Dameron. I tell you he’s ogling my boobs every time I get down from the T-70. Those new harnesses have to be good for something! Anyway not everyone wants to play it safe like you do.”

“Meaning?”

“Heh. How’s the new stray you’ve brought in?”

“The new stray saved my ass, Pava.”

“Yeah, now he’s checking it out. And he wears your jacket? What was it the last time – the refugee from Fenion, wasn’t he? And you’d given him, what, your speeder?”

“And? I didn’t use it, the guy needed it if he wanted to keep his job .What’s the problem? Finn’s the same, he needs the jacket. In case you haven’t seen, he came in with only his underuniform thermals.”

Finn had to strain his ears to hear the last part, so strangled and low Poe’s voice had become. He didn’t want to hear more. Didn’t need to know how he was just another charity case in a Resistance Hero’s long list. Hated the idea.

Couldn’t stop listening.

“Oh? Didn’t notice, but then my tastes go to another species. Commander Dameron Sir, you know your poker face never works...”

“All right, looks good in it, too.”

“Yeah, and the boy from Fenion looked good on your speeder, too, and the one before in your special sunglasses. Dameron, you really are a genuine nice guy, and I think that why it works, but this is becoming the most overused dating strategy on the whole base, and that’s not a small feat!”

“Overused strategy beats overly convoluted one, my girl. The bet still stands.”

“Poe my boy, I wouldn’t even bet in your case, couldn’t find anybody taking the odds against you tapping that. Fresh out of the nest, this one. Did you already offer him to bunk with you? Come on, is it for tonight?”

“Shit, Pava! You really know how to rile people up when you’re not getting some. And could you lower the volume, just a little? You know how the higher-ups like to put their noses in my private life.”

“Sure, Mister Figurehead of the Resistance. But you’ve gotta say –“

The woman went on talking but Finn couldn’t hear her over the buzzing in his ears. Shards of his conditioning were insisting he should stay here, that he couldn’t waste his food, that he should gather information, while some kind of primal instinct was telling him to flee, regroup, react, and first of all get back to that hangar 42 and find a place in a dorm, stat.

But Poe was talking again, and Finn’s traitor ears didn’t fail to catch what was barely above a whisper.

“Where’s the catch if we have a little fun, him and I? The Force knows he needs nice things in his life right now. And in a few months he’ll adjust to his freedom, will find his way around, make friends.” There was something like a hiccup, maybe burping? “He’ll tire of me. Leave me, if I’m not dead. No harm done. I’ll find someone else. That’s the better way, Pava.”

Finn’s instincts won. He rose up, his chair scraping on the floor making a convincing Chewbacca impression. _Shit_ , he thought, _shit, and I thought we had some kind of particular, one-of-a-kind connexion, says stray number four, or is it ten, or eighty seven? Shit._ He ran, bumped into Poe who was coming back in, a bottle of something in hand, went on running pursued by Poe’s genuinely happy “Hey, buddy!”

/

To his lasting astonishment, he didn’t get a bed in a dorm but a whole room for himself.

/

“Hey, Finn! Buddy!”

_Shit._

“You ran away so fast I couldn’t catch you.” The heavy-lidded warm eyes lit, just a little, the mouth opened, just a little. _Shit_. “I thought I could show you around some, explain how things work.” _Yeah. Give the poor lost renegade a bit of attention and niceness, huh? Shit_.

“Maybe introduce you to my T-70? She’s _special._ ” _And shit_. His grin was so wide, so eager, so apparently devoid of anything other than pure glee that Finn though it absolutely unfair it had to make the other look so good.

“I thought we’d have some meeting about Rey?” he finally said. Poe’s smile faltered a little.

“Rey?”

“The girl, well, woman I escaped Jakku with. She piloted the Millenium Falon to get us out. And she saved your droid.” He made a disparaging sound. “She’s the one who completed your mission, you know. Not me. Kylo Ren got her. So, are we going to do something? Will the _Resistance_ save her?”

Finn didn’t miss the brief ripple of anguish going through Poe’s features at the mention of Ren, nor the flicker of pity that followed.

“Finn. The central system of the Republic just got blasted by the First Order, and there’s a lethal weapon floating somewhere that will kill us all if the _Resistance_ doesn’t manage to neutralise it very soon. So your Rey –“ he caught himself, exhaled. “The Force protect her. We’ll be going after her, if she – if only because she’ll be with Kylo Ren and they’ll be on that weapon planet.”

“You mean, the Starkiller?”

“You know about it?”

“I was stationed on it.”

“Then you’ll have things to tell to the higher-ups. Not everyone arrived on D’Qar yet, though. The meeting will be on the nineteenth hour, we still have time.” Poe’s hands landed on Finn’s forearms – Finn was beginning to notice how tactile the man was, how he needed to be always touching people, and realised in a piercing moment how he’d have cherished this little titbit of information only one hour earlier. “Let’s breathe a little, do some mundane things, you know? After all, everything here –“ he smirked, let loose one of Finn’s arms, gestured widely, brought back his hand on the back of Finn’s neck – “might still be here tomorrow. Thinking of that, has anybody thought of your housing arrangements?”

Finn extirpated himself gently from Poe’s embrace, managed to smile. “Yeah, thanks. There’s a pilot woman, don’t know her name, who pointed me in the right direction. Got a whole room for myself! Can’t remember it ever happening before.”

Poe didn’t miss a beat. “Lucky you! You know, I’ve got a room for myself, too. Rather like a small apartment. I had – I had planned to pass there while showing you the place, I need a shower and a change of clothes. You could use the facilities, too, if you wish.”

Heroically, Finn maintained his smile. “Ah, thanks, Poe. I – you know, in the last two days, I’ve ripped myself off everything I ever knew, I. I began to learn about friends, got shot on a few times, tried to flee from all of this, learned how to light on a lightsaber, got my ass served on a platter while using it, ah, and – and I was given a name, and –“ he patted his leather-covered breast “–and borrowed a jacket which by the way I promise to give back to you as soon as I get my own clothes, and. And, what I mean, is, is that I need time for myself. And space. And to get some sleep. If I want to be any help for Rey. Sorry.”

Poe’s deflated expression reminded Finn of what he’d heard about his lack of poker face. “I’m sorry,” the pilot said, slowly. “I – can’t begin to imagine, but I see how it could get overwhelming.” A half-smile. “I guess.”

Finn waited a little to see if Poe would try to push himself forward again, offering his help and imposing his presence in any other way. Nothing came. Poe even took a step backwards, honouring the other’s wish for space. “When did you last sleep?” he only said.

“I don’t really know? I napped in the Falcon, I think. What time is it?”

“On this planet? The smaller moon rising, there, means it’s two hours past sunrise. The ninth hour, D’Qar’s day is a little longer than standard. But if you don’t mind the light, you’ve got plenty of time to rest. I’ll – I’ll leave you, then. If you – no, nothing. Your room’s in the green block? I’ll pick you up at eighteen thirty.”

“Poe.”

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep, too. You look terrible.”

And he did, when the mask of good cheer left his face. The marks of torture were still visible in spite of some hasty kind of healing, the bags under his eyes looked like bruises, the shoulders were tense and the jaw set.

The pilot nodded once. “Thanks, my friend. I’ll think of it.”

/

Finn stepped in the room. _His_ room. All to himself. All by himself. He didn’t know if the feeling was so good.

He looked around, taking in the single bed, the small bathroom, the desk with a console, a holo device and empty shelves. Even a room as impersonal and basic as this one had more colour than the whole of the Stormtroopers quarters. A rim of olive green around the window pane and walls painted pale yellow, an incongruous and vaguely moldy bathroom curtain with a pattern of multi-coloured lightsabers, a red and green sticker, half-peeled, clinging stubbornly to the door. Someone had engraved a clumsy heart with the initials J+S on the bedpost.

More sloppiness that in the whole of the Stormtroopers quarters, too. There had been a string of individuals here before him, people without a mindset but with a mind of their own, going on with all the little particularities of their lives.

Whereas Finn was alone, without anybody to give him the rules. Without even the most basic mindset tape. Nor even a schedule leaflet. Without a group to disappear in, who would have known his mind because it was the same as theirs.

He was drifting, drowning again, no wish to cling to his old conditioning, nothing else to hold on.

Poe. Poe would take him out of the water as he’d done in these first minutes they’d known each other. But Poe would let him go in the end. So it was better that he’d pushed him away.

And Finn had to learn to be alone. To rely on himself. Without a Poe-shaped crutch.

And first he had to sleep. If he could.

Well. There was a bit of his old Stormtrooper conditioning that could be used here, at least. When stressed, they’d say, release steam. Find someone, willing or not. And if no one was there, your hand and a bit of imagination would do. As Poe himself would say, no harm done.

He tried to settle on the too soft bed, turned around a few times, finally propped himself in a sitting position, positioning the pillow, resting his back on the welcome hard surface of the wall. He stroked himself lightly over the thermal pants, began to lower the waistband. Would he think of Rey? Unbending energy and wide smile and skin unbelievably soft and hair in buns that needed to get undone, and – no. Rey was also beautiful like a diamond, and strong and hard as one. Jacking off thinking of her felt strangely incestuous, unreal, like making a Rey-shaped blow-up doll. And if he was frank with himself, it was not arousing in the least.

Poe, then. And if the fantasy was not nice, not a romance, well – he was a Stormtrooper, wasn’t he? Or had been, but maybe right now it didn’t matter. No harm done.

Thermal pants and underwear went off, jacket stayed on, with something like the memory of Poe’s scent lingering in Finn’s nostrils. Poe… Poe would come to him with that eager grin of his, would want a kiss.

He’d have… He’d have removed his flying suit, would shrug out of whatever he wore underneath, would be stark naked in front of Finn. He’d be fit, Finn knew, not overly bulky but strong and sparely built in that way of someone who would burn calories in an X-fighter and couldn’t stay still otherwise. His shoulders – Finn knew Poe’s shoulders were wide, how he walked with them pushed forward, how it made his gait look like it was all about barely containing some primal strength that wanted out, out and free. Poe would walk exactly like that to him, headstrong and cocky, and then would stop, would have to tilt his head upwards just this little bit and as he came close, his grin would become thirsty, showing a hint of the white, uneven teeth. The heavy eyes would stay fixed down on Finn’s lips, and Finn…

Finn would press on these muscular shoulders and force him down, down to his own groin and would watch as the man’s hand – strong calloused palms, long fingers with multiple small scars and cuts, small bits of tenacious motor grease still under his nails – would grip his thighs for balance, close to his butt, white on black.

Finn’s cock gave a little anticipating jolt at the idea, already rock hard and jutting against his belly. He caressed it, not too strong, not fast, wanting to make this last, doubting he would.

Finn’s hands would tangle in Poe’s overlong hair, press him against his length, the curved strong nose breathing in the curled hair, and Poe’s mouth, his wide mouth with the sinuous lips would engulf him, take him whole, at once, with that hint of teeth that Finn craved, and fuck, but he’d fuck this mouth as strong as he could and the noises Poe would make would be delicious and obscene and fuck he couldn’t last, didn’t want to come right now but a flash in his mind of Poe’s eyes coming up and locking to his was his undoing. He came, in long spurts on his belly and on the wall behind him, and went on, stronger than he could remember ever going.

He slept afterwards, half slumped against the wall, a blanket bunched around his naked calves, still in Poe’s jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

Poe’s beauty of a T-70 was as ready as she ever would, his squadrons were briefed and working at everything that could still need some work, BB-8 was mooning after Artoo somewhere, and nobody needed his prying eye.

The meeting was still hours away and he was patched up and showered, finding himself in his quarters without anything to do and with a distinct lack of Finn by his side. Which caused a short, furious wave of anger – not at Finn, never at him, the Force knew the man was incredible, one of a kind, to have the guts to throw away a whole life of conditioning, choose to save himself, and rescue what at the time was but an enemy in the process. No, never at Finn, maybe at Pava, who obviously had a hand in the whole fiasco, but surely at himself, because the guy should never have had to deal with Poe’s dirty little dating strategies.

Still, having Finn by his side would have nicely helped.

Well. He could go to headquarters and acquaint himself with the latest information, learn of the hints general Organa was feeling through the force, add his input to the people who were trying to triangulate the position of the Starkiller and to devise a way to approach it.

But after the royal fuck-up of his last mission, he felt like the last guy in the Galaxy who should ever be approached with anything looking remotely strategic. Flying like he was born to do it – and he _was_ born to it, - any time. Leading squadrons like he held all of their moves and their positions in his mind, _easy_. But the rest. The balance of the universe upturned because of what you knew, of what you let spill out, or didn’t. The lives of billions erased because of the travels of a droid. Smooth empty walls of a destroyer, soldiers white upon black nearly like machines. A pain he’d endured in vain, and _him_ , looming over – No.

He’d keep to what he did best and as for these parts of his mind that clamoured to be heard about pain and failure and abject terror, he’d known enough tragedies in his life, personal or otherwise, to know how to close the door and keep it firmly shut.

Finn was right, he had to rest. If not right now, then after the meeting, in the few hours before they’d take flight, and he was doing his best not to think to where and what exactly. He must sleep, or he’d lose his edge in the battle that was sure to come, becoming a danger not only to himself but to all.

Only he knew his mind and the numerous doors in there he was valiantly fighting to keep shut, and if he was sure of one thing it was that sleep wouldn’t come.

He considered briefly jacking off to Finn fantasies. Now that was something he’d have loved, having Finn in his bed – tracing his full lips with one finger, claiming them with his mouth, having them roam over his whole body – letting Finn take control, letting Finn take him, however he wanted it. A good, a great fuck and then this warm, supple, strong body to hold close against the Kylo Rens of this universe. Poe’s cock twitched, quite interested by the idea.

But the idea wasn’t the real thing, and that was another thing Poe had royally fucked up.

Jacking off was out, so there was one thing left. He retrieved the pill bottle from behind his socks in the drawer, shook it. Looked like it was running dangerously low, but that would do for this day. The only question was one pill, or two? One might well not be enough, two would leave cobwebs in his brain for the whole evening and maybe too long afterwards.

So one pill it was, gulped dry.

He did sleep at first, the heavy drugged sleep he was only getting too accustomed to these days.

Then a dream managed to find its way through the medicated stupor and of course it changed to something else. Something half-awake in between the other ghosts of his fears, phantoms of Stormtroopers roaming through and a beeping torture chair. Something cold seeping inexorably through his brain, opening doors upon doors and leaving only darkness and void in its wake. And Poe was falling through the emptiness towards the source of that annihilating cold, and the one who violated him didn’t even care, only tore off shreds of his mind and threw them in the galactic wind.

It felt real, complete with a sense of direction and if he could have stood or talked he would have called the others, pointing them towards that evilness between the stars. But he could only watch his mind go numb and empty and dark.

Then one of the phantom Stormtroopers who were only his own nightmare came into focus and removed his helmet and revealed an open, young, handsome face, warm dark eyes showing human fear and human courage and –concern?

“Finn!” he shouted sitting up, and finally managed to wrench his mind from the seeping cold.

/

“Poe,” mumbled Finn in his sleep, pulling the blanket up and pushing himself more snuggly against the wall.

/

Poe didn’t get back to sleep but felt somewhat improved. He decided to go offer his help at headquarters.

/

The meeting was – well, the meeting wasn’t what everyone and Poe thought it would, because Finn saved the day, as much as could be saved, with his knowledge of the Starkiller.

Finn was doing it for Rey, of course, which showed two things, first that the man was incredible to be able to form such attachments after the life he’d been through and second that Poe was an idiot that got to easily attached.

“Poe,” said the General as everyone was leaving.

Poe put on is best slightly cocky, competent, rested pilot face and smiled. “Yeah?”

He saw her glance briefly at Finn’s retreating back, then at him and back at Finn.

“Ever thought you could be Force-sensitive?”

Now that was so unexpected and ridiculous he couldn’t help the snort escaping.

“Ha. I’ve tried all my life to switch off the light from afar, but believe me, never works.”

She kept her eyes on him with such a searching look that he finally felt compelled to add: “all right, except when throwing a ball on the contact. Or a shoe. I’m very accurate with a shoe. But come on, you’ve known me all my life, your brother too. If I could have moved but a leaf in the wind, he’d have grabbed me and –“ he stopped.

“And tried to make a Jedi out of you, only you’d be dead at the hands of my son?”

“Sorry.”

“Poe, my boy. You’ll never be as sorry as I am.” She pressed her lips together in what could have been a sad-angry smile or a grimace. “Back to you. You were already promising to be an exceptional pilot back then. Maybe Luke respected this? Not everyone with the Force becomes a Jedi. I’m not one.”

“You really think I might be Force sensitive?”

“I never even thought about it before today, but – do you feel anything?”

Poe tried to look inside himself, as he’d heard you should do. What he felt was some remnants of a headache, an elating anticipation for the flight to come and an embarrassing softness when Finn’s name came around. Oh, and a yearning for carbohydrates, which made itself known when his stomach grumbled.

“Huh. Hungry. I definitely feel hungry.” He shrugged. “Nothing Force-related, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. We’ll see. It’s good that you’re hungry. You’re still on Jakku’s time, you’ve slept already?”

He looked her in the eyes, didn’t falter. “I did.”

“Good.” She stopped, long enough that he began to turn away to leave. “Poe. _I’_ m still Force-sensitive. And I need to tell you, what happened on that Destroyer –“

He jerked his head up, forced himself in a more controlled stance.

“What happened, the way it happened,” she went on, “there’s no shame in it. Even Luke… Poe, you’ll have to face it. We’ll face it together, if you wish.”

He wished nothing of the kind. But maybe he’d have to. Someday. He smiled. “When we have the time, general.”

Now that was a genuine sad smile. “Yes. When we have the time.”

/

The base was entering the small hours of the morning but Poe’s internal clock was somewhere between you’ll never sleep anyway and this is the middle of the day.

Anyway, it was a time he’d learnt to cherish on D’Qar because the control room was mostly left to droids. He found their beeping soothing and the calm was perfect to put a final polish on the squadrons’ routes. The droids were the ones doing the plotting, of course. But it paid to know which systems would be near their emerging point, what were the options for hyperspace re-entry, and basically gather everything that would help him move his fighters on that three-dimensional chess board without having to require BB-8 output.

He stretched and went back to his task, letting his mind think in points and vectors, gravity and release, lightspeed, action, reaction, trajectories. He was already in tomorrow’s (today’s?) flight and felt at peace.

“If I’d been told you were an analytical pilot, kid, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

Poe turned around slowly, taking in the white, tousled hair, the swagger and the crooked smile.

“Kid?” he said slowly.

“Commander Dameron, suits you better?” The smirk went markedly more crooked, but there was an emotion behind it, a vulnerability Poe couldn’t quite place and couldn’t remember having ever seen on that face.

“Stop it, Solo.”

“I saw you pilot on Takodana. You’ve become good.”

“I’m the best!”

“Aren’t we all.”

Poe smiled and slapped Solo on the arm, sat him at the table beside him.

“On an X-Wing, I’m the best. And I’ll let you know I’m definitely _not_ an analytical pilot. But I’ve found being an analytical squadron leader helps.”

“They say you remind them of me, you know, those mighty generals around Leia. I don’t think so. You’ve got Responsibilities. You play by the rules.”

“I play by the rules? Me?”

“You know what I mean. Perfect squadron leader, your face in half of the Resistance holoprograms, women swooning everywhere, just that hint of a rebellious streak that makes you even more _dashing._ For real, have you thought of monetarising those autographs they’re making you sign? You could have merchandise made, I don’t know, small models of your black X-wing, little Poe Dameron figures and the like. With that charisma of yours, they’d sell and you’d be rich.”

“Oh, shut up. The only model I’ve seen that sells well is the Millenium Falcon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. With Han and Leia action figures to size. Han.”

“Hmm?”

“You should have stayed. I really could have done with another charismatic and dashing ace pilot around, you know. Those swooning women are a nuisance and the higher ups keep lecturing me about how much of a role model I should be. They put their ugly noses in my sex life. They like that I’m single because it ‘attracts young people to our cause,’ and will you stop snickering.”

“Well, at my age, boy, I won’t attract young people anymore.”

“Wanna bet? You’d be better at that than me.”

“Dameron, since I’m sure you’re not drunk four hours before a mission, I’m gonna guess you’re seriously lacking sleep, or in love.”

“I’m tired of this, that’s all. Shit, some of them don’t even like that I fuck men.”

“They – what? That you like men, in a base where a sizeable part of the population shacks up with someone of another _species_? Does Leia tolerate them? I mean, the girl I know wouldn’t blink if you fucked a small sarlacc –“

“Eurgh. Oww.”

“Let’s say a bantha.”

“The thing is, she lets them talk. See, there are those systems, they support us, because they’re scared of the First Order methods. But that’s where you hear things such as ‘maybe not everything from the old Empire should be rejected,’ you know, and ‘there was a time when the values of Humanity –‘ with a very capitalised H –‘were better upheld,’ and the like. And everyone here is scared of losing their support, credits, whatever. So it seems the Resistance needs figureheads that embody Humanity’s values, and may they rot in Dagobah until their skin turns green.”

“And you want me to come back to that?”

“Ah. You know the Resistance’s not really about that, don’t you. Solo, we need – we don’t have enough really good pilots, here. Thing is, even before that Starkiller massacre, we were slowly losing ground. Too many empire nostalgics in the human systems, too many mystics of the dark side fancying themselves to be Siths. And just plain apathy from most other people. Why did you dese – leave when we most needed you?”

“Told you I wasn’t like you. I have not your morals, kid. _General_ Solo always was a smuggler and a mercenary.” He sighed. “But maybe one day you can come and ask me, or Leia, what exactly it was I smuggled and for whom. Most of the time.”

“Sure.”

“And I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“And afterwards?”

“Who knows. But now there’s one that will do great in your team, if we get her out of the hands of the First Order.”

“Rey?”

“She’s quite incredible. Force-sensitive, it seems, and strongly. Jedi-strong, which gives us hope for her right now. And she managed quite well with the Millenium Falcon.”

“You let her pilot the Falcon?”

“Let her nothing. I caught her and the Stormtrooper, Finn, in it. But she makes an adequate co-pilot and she knows her way around machines.”

“She seems to have made an impression on Finn, too.”

“Yeah. Looks like the boy is quite obsessed. Reminds me of old me, that one. Don’t really think he does what he’s doing for the Resistance and the balance of good and evil. He’s got, well, more individual objectives.”

“Has he? And her? Was she – I mean. Nothing. Oh, blast it, I need to go back to these routes anyway. Thanks for sticking with us tomorrow, Han.”

The old smuggler nodded, made an aborted move to rise up, sat back down.

“Poe. Came in here to ask you – ah, sorry. You won’t – Well.”

“What?”

“You – you knew Ben, when you were little? My son?”

Poe couldn’t help the shiver. But there was this legend of his childhood, in front of him, with such a pleading expression, so at odds with his usual bearing. “Yeah, well, a little. He left when he was quite young, I must have played a few times with him when the general and you visited. But yeah, remember him.”

“And on that destroyer – tell me if I’m overstepping. I’ll stop.”

Poe realised he was hugging himself, arms crossed and elbows on the table. He stood straighter. “I’ll tell you, ask away,” he answered.

“You know it was him, don’t you?”

“I know. It’s not common knowledge, but I know.”

“Was there anything that was still young Ben in him?”

He sighed, hoped Solo didn’t notice how it nearly ended in a sob. Felt like he needed to touch the man, landed a hand on his forearm. “Han, you’ve gotta know you’re not going to get the answer you hope, asking me. He – he did ugly things. Terrifying. Sorry.”

Solo bent his head, covered Poe’s hand with his.

“I think he’d have loved the parallel with Vader, but I’ll do it anyway,” Poe went on after a while, his voice a whisper. “Vader. That’s how it felt. But,” he went on, clearing his throat. “Something he wouldn’t have liked to know is that he looked so young, when not using the Force. Bratty, even. Like he wanted so much to be taken seriously. So maybe that’s what left of Ben. The boy playing pretend.”

The intensity of the glint coming through the greying eyebrows was heart wrenching.

“I don’t know,” said Poe. “Maybe you can bring him back. To the light, I mean. That’s what you’re thinking of, isn’t it? It was easy to make him change his mind when he was young. But please, if you manage it, don’t take him where I can see him.”

He rose. Solo rose with him and used the hand he was still holding to pull him in an embrace.

“I’ll tell you, my boy,” said the old man, still hugging Poe close. “You’ll never be like me because you’re fucking nice. Much too nice. So, thanks. And sorry. Mingling with Skywalkers makes for horrible stories, sometimes.”

Poe pushed himself at arm’s length, looked up, tried to smile. “Yeah,” he said. “At least you’ve mingled with the right one yourself.”

And suddenly the old Han Solo, smuggler, hero, long-time lover of Leia Organa, was back. He smirked. “I know,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Poe switched channels, which was against regulations.

“Dameron to Solo. Don’t forget you need to help me with these autographs. Stay alive. Over.”

The answer came on three channels at once, Solo being unable to recognise a rule if it bit him in the ass.

“You know I always do, Pilot.”

Then the Falcon was a small dash of blue light up in the sky, then nothing.

Alright. A swoosh, a swirl of light. “Black leader to Blue Squadron, enter hyperspace. Over.”

Dots on his screen, half of their fighting fleet.

“Black leader to Red Squadron, enter hyperspace. Over.”

More dots. Everyone here. Now was the time to wait, in that space in between moments. Uncomfortable. Takodana had been what Poe breathed for – no dallying in hyperspace, a world of blues and greens and brilliant sun on re-entry, the X-wings like large swans, their trajectories white plumes on the water. The shooting had been a choreography of attack and dodging, shunning the ground and flirting with it in turns. It had felt, strangely, like he danced with a partner.

Nothing of the kind in the present mission. No pilot could like that suspended, silent waiting. You learned early not to let yourself go tense on the commands, waiting for the call. Some rehearsed their planned moves until all they could see were connexions and vectors. Other listened to music, a few managed to meditate – surprisingly, Pava was among them. Many fell into introspection, Poe not the last of them. But this day introspection, if you could call that, had a name – brand new. Finn. Finn, Poe had realised today, who looked so competent and resolved and so angry and so lost when holding a blaster. Some flashback to his conditioning, Poe had guessed this morning, remembering that trooper on Jakku who had lowered his weapon when all others were fighting. 

So when he’d witnessed Finn on the tarmac with that tense set of the jaw he could have imagined under a Stormtrooper’s helmet, he’d jumped down from his T-70 and tried to put in an arm slap everything he could convey about belonging, friendship and good luck.

Now Finn was ahead of them, the madness of his mission echoing another, mythic, thirty years old one. Poe couldn’t erase the thought that you couldn’t have this kind of luck twice.

He wondered if the Force allowed you to connect with someone you’d just met. If the General had been right in sensing something in him. He tried. Thought he could feel something, a kind of preferential orientation, up and a little to the left. But then he knew where their point of re-entry was.

“Their shields are down,” the General’s very welcome voice said through the comm. “Squadrons to attack now.”

Re-entry to a huge, mutilated, frozen world and a dying sun. Moves were easy, approach, fire, escape. Target like shooting fishes in a barrel. A few of the younger pilots boasted of their full marks. Then didn’t.

Tie fighters and canons came in and Poe should have despaired, but by then the fire of battle and flight was burning in his veins and nothing mattered but the dance, fire at target and slide and just a tad of the retrojets and get behind that fighter and fire again and plunge and back on the target, Pava and Snap and himself each other’s shadows, the squadron’s formations blossoming into an organised chaos.

They were good, they were fucking good and they were beginning to die and it didn’t change a thing, target still there and unscathed. Poe didn’t smile as he actioned the commands with cold efficiency, downing another opponent and silencing another canon and getting close enough to the surface to guess at where they could crash their fighters for maximum effect.

Then there was something, a brief blankness, the lightest echo of someone’s bottomless grief. A breath, another, a near-miss with a stealthy Tie-fighter, and suddenly the oscillator down there in the growing darkness erupted into fire.

“The oscillator is damaged but it’s still functioning!” his comm shouted, a voice from the Resistance base but not the General’s.

Inside it was, then, him first because it had to be done and he was the best they had. The others, what was left of them, were covering him, following him and dying because of him. It felt like déjà-vu and it seemed that this kind of luck could indeed happen thrice, first Luke Skywalker then Wedge Antilles and then him.

When he exited the debris he didn’t feel any elation nor triumph. Just grief.

“Black leader to everyone,” he said to the few still flying. “Hold. We stay here.”

Under them a world was starting to crumble and the spreading lines of fire were spectacular in the twilight of the dying sun.

Another blankness came, this one more particular and sharper and violent, like a stabbing pain.

A few small First Order ships escaped.

But finally the Millennium Falcon shot out and somehow Poe knew/hoped/knew that Finn was alive.

/

Han Solo was dead, so a choked, female voice –Rey – told them in the comm. Chewbacca’s wail was echoing in the background. No sound of Finn. Finn was wounded, unconscious, the same female voice said.

/

Gilm’s T-70 had been damaged and crashed upon landing. It had been his second mission, and he’d been excellent, and he was still alive. His limbs a mess. Poe thought of how an X-wing cockpit could be adapted for someone with only one leg.

“You were good, Poe.”

“You were fucking brilliant, Jessika.”

Pava high-fived him, a winning grin on her lips and shadows in her eyes. “Now for a near death experience, that was legendary,” she said. He smirked. They hugged.

“The Falcon’s landing,” she said in his ear.

He ran.

Rey exited first. She looked like the stuff of legends, garments floating in the light wind, beautiful, sharp, powerful. Grieving. So young, Poe realised. Their eyes met. He nodded, once. She held his gaze for a while, then fixed her eyes further away on the cheering crowd. So terribly young, he thought again.

Finn appeared on a medic gurney, flat on his back, still wearing Poe’s jacket. Still unconscious. His skin had a greyish tint, his face was slack. He had no apparent wound. His chest rose and fell, though, and nobody looked in too much of a hurry around him. Stabilised. Poe followed.

/

The meddroids were done. With Gilm, and with Finn. Poe lay down his mug of caf, rose from his seat on the other side of the glass panel. He was filthy, felt like he’d passed through exhaustion and come out on the other side, where you don’t even want to sleep anymore and hold on a kind of borrowed energy. He picked up his jacket, touched absentmindedly the charred edges of the slash in the back. Folded it.

“Hum, hello? You must be Poe Dameron? I’m Rey.”

She’d changed her clothes for something warmer. Looked rested though there still was a small tense line between her eyebrows. He felt even shabbier.

“I’d guessed. Huh. I mean, hello. Yes, I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“How’s Finn?”

“In an induced coma. Too much pain and his spine was touched - not severed. He has to lie absolutely still while the bacta’s at work.”

“And then?”

“Then it’s a matter of seeing how he can move, they say. But the meddroid told me he’s confident about the nerve connexions. He should have a complete recovery.”

She exhaled with a small relieved noise. They stood side by side in silence, looking at Finn breathing slowly in his sterile cot, listening to the regular beeps.

“You’ve slept?” he blurted.

“Yeah.”

She was much, much stronger than him.

“In the Falcon. Chewbacca made me.”

“Chewbacca? You’re making friends easily.”

“Am I? I’m – not used to it.”

“BB-8 likes you.”

“Oh, I like him too!”

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

/

Beep. Beep, made the machines around Finn. Beep. Beep.

/

“Han was a friend,” she said abruptly.

Poe patted her on the arm, let his hand fall at his side.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

/

“Finn told me you piloted a Tie-fighter?”

Fuck. Her smile was blinding.

“How does it compare to an X-wing?” she went on, eager.

“You know about them? Fighters, I mean?”

“There was an ancient carcass on Jakku, a Tie fighter. I worked a little on it, tried to make it fly. Never went much further than take-off. Stabilisators were shot. I ended selling it, best pile of portions I ever got. So. Would you trade your ship for a Tie?”

“Never! I mean, _my_ T-70 is pretty special. Improved. Great speed, never got a sharper turn on any other machine. Well, I concede that the Tie has an incredible acceleration. _Incredible_. Wow. Also, good console, it really transmits every little thing. Probably not easy to begin with such light-trigger commands.

“Oh. You mean it wasn’t really the stabilisators if I kept sending it upside down in the sand?”

“You’ve piloted the Falcon, haven’t you. Then it was definitely the stabilisators. And about those Tie fighters with their acceleration and all, they may say we are at a disadvantage, but I mean, try to make them turn and you’ll feel your pain. Feels like a cargo ship. Those First Order pilots must have arms like trunks to be able to force them into any kind of curve.”

“How do they behave in atmosphere? The two that pursued us on Jakku, they looked, well, clumsy.”

“Exactly! That’s the thing with X-wings, they’re excellent versatile ships. They glide, you know, and you can adapt the wing shape, that’s the secret for a good turn, just this tad of controlled instability, and the jets orientation range is much more open, too. The Tie I had was already quite damaged on atmosphere entry but anyway it felt like piloting in a corridor, that thing. Air pressure on these panels, fuck me. Definitely something you shouldn’t pull out of deep space. And while we’re at it, those panels. Such a damn vulnerability! You get one panel shot, no way to prevent the tumbling. Whereas with an X-wing you can neutralise two wing branches and still land yourself right.” He smiled, wide. “I’ll show you, if you wish. You can try.”

“Damn right! I’d love that!”

She smiled, wider. Their eyes met, they smiled even wider, Poe snorted. They laughed.

“Hi, Rey,” said Poe “Nice to meet you. You’re not at all what I imagined you to be.”

“Hi, Poe. You’re absolutely everything Finn told me about you. How did you imagine me?”

“Hm. A kind of female Luke Skywalker, emanating Force and Doom? But you’re not! You’re – I mean, you love flying! All of it! The dirty fucking down to earth mechanics of it! Would you – Rey, would you like to become a pilot here?”

She began to smile, eyes wide, then grimaced.

“I’m supposed to go and find Luke Skywalker. I have his lightsaber.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So. Force and Doom, huh.”

“Pretty much. You’ll keep an eye on Finn while I’m away?”

“Sure. And remember there still might be an X-wing for you when you’re done with all that Jedi thing, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Poe.”

/

“Poe Dameron.” The voice was hoarse, lower than usual.

“General.”

“I’m sorry but we need you at debriefing. Once you’ve slept, and that’s an order, Poe. And afterwards we’ll have to talk about new missions for the squadrons.”

“New missions? I thought we’d have bought us some respite, at least. Also, squadrons, plural? Have you seen how few functional ships we still have?”

“Believe me, I know. But the Republic’s still in shambles, there are refugees everywhere, systems disconnected from each other, cargoes disappearing, commerce broken. Too many ships asking for entry, many with the lucky from Hosnian onboard, but if there aren’t any Fist Order spies among them then I’m Jabba the Hutt.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“And it’s clear this base is compromised. We need to move, and I think we shouldn’t keep everything in the same place in the future”

“Damn. We haven’t got the numbers for this all!”

“Exactly, so the sooner we get at it, the better chance to do some of it right.”

“Okay, I’m going to bed. Someone wakes me up if anything changes with Finn?”

“Poe, you need to – all right.”

“I’ll wake you up,” said Rey.

General Organa looked through the glass panel. “A Stormtrooper…” She sighed. “What shall we do with him? Do you think we can trust him, Poe?”

“Definitely!” said Poe, at the same time as Rey shouted “of course!”

“He saved my life!” they both said at the same time.

“And you saved his, quite a few times, too. Strange times. His motives, though. He’s not a Resistance guy, not yet.” She chuckled, eyes suspiciously glinting. “From what Chewie and you, Rey, told us, he reminds me a lot of young Han, actually.”

Poe cleared his throat. “General Organa, I want to tell you –“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry, and all, I know, believe me I know.”

“But I am! Han – he went to visit me last night, and –“

She smirked, made an exaggerated dramatic gesture towards her forehead. “What, Poe? Don’t tell me that even Han… Isn’t there any limit to your charms?”

“Of course not, General, I mean of course it wasn’t in that way! He came – I mean, he went in, he wanted to talk of Ben, I think. But we ended talking of everything, really. It was nice. He – he really loved Ben. Loved you.”

She smiled. “I know.” Sighed. “And now, off you go, Poe.”

/

Poe pulled open the socks drawer, took the last two pills out of the bottle. Shit. He’d have to trick the med system into giving him more.

He slept like a log, hugging the torn jacket that now smelled like lightsaber burn and Finn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll tell you a secret: I'm a pilot. A paraglider pilot, and that was before I had children, but going back to it is definitely among this year's resolutions. Anyway. Every flyboy and flygirl is the same when you get down to it ;)


	4. Chapter 4

The next days, soon turning to weeks, were not a good time to be a pilot in the Resistance. The First Order was minus its main base and weapon but what it lost in power, it gained in stealth. The Order was more diffuse than before, harder to pin and fight, striking at convoys and retreating, killing officials here and there, infiltrating governments, whispering words about purity and power and hatred to everyone who would listen. Species were beginning to turn in on themselves with less and less care for those who were left out.

/

“It’s not that any of this is complicated, as far as orders go,” an unshaven, dirty, exhausted Poe was telling a still unconscious Finn. “I’ve piloted more cargo ships in one week that I have in the rest of my career as a pilot, that’s so _boring_. But – three of these ships were full of refugees, Finn, people we crammed in the holds and dumped out in other systems, ‘m not even sure they’ll be accepted there. And we have to filter. Filter, among men holding their crying children and gags of bedraggled families who lost everything. Fuck, I got shot at twice, and I’m finding myself looking at every outsider like they’re First Order spies”

Poe exhaled, let himself get soothed by the beeping and the low light – and Finn’s resting, calm face.

“It’s. It’s that we’re asked to be everything at once. Babysitters for merchant’s ships. Space cops. There are at least three systems where we’re the last link they have with the rest of the Galaxy. And the recruits. Damn them all. The former New Republic Navy pilots keep complaining about lax regulations and lack of amenities, and most of them aren’t even fit to touch a T-70 console. As for the others – fuck, everyone, really, they need training and that’s taking perfectly good pilots out of the action.”

He scratched at his nascent beard, passed a hand over his eyes. “I miss Pava and her foul moods, you can’t know how much. But one of these recruits was a spy and sabotaged her fighter, good thing he didn’t realise we do our own maintenance. Still, she’s grounded, and busy being the worse instructor in the whole universe in the meantime.” He smiled. “Hey, she’s around here often, still needs medical checkups. And she checks on Gilm, heh. Maybe I’ll lose my bet. Anyway, you’ll have a familiar face around when you wake up, she’ll surely wish to tell you how much of an untrustworthy bed-hopper I am.”

Beep. Beep.

“Not that you care, anyway. ‘m sure you’ll ask after Rey.”

/

And in the ruins of the New Republic, that chaos was enough. Whole systems deflected to a prudent neutral stance, others, seduced by promises of security or afraid of a shutting of their commercial routes openly affiliated themselves to the First Order. Old alliances crumbled, old routes became liabilities.

The Resistance decided to move their base, as Leia Organa had foreseen. They should, but couldn’t scatter their assets, being spread so thin. So they made a decoy on one comfortable, idyllic moon and settled on the wet, rainy world below. Spread their people and ships everywhere downworld in small groups, hid their buildings, made backups and copies of everything. Bet on the chance that the First Order had lost its ability to destroy a whole world at once.

More work for everyone, unearthing barracks, transporting crates, rebuilding three structures where one would have been enough. At least the perpetual thick wet clouds made a good cover.

/

“There, friend. You’re settled. That’s your new home, for now. The walls are orange and brown, and, uh, a kind of purple? Sorry about that, I hope they won’t frighten you into going back to the First Order when you wake up. Huh. Sorry, idiotic joke, ‘m tired. Also, you’ll be happy to know I saved your toothbrush and that scrap of paper where you’d written the day’s schedule and stuck that half of a sticker of a band. Really, buddy, how you could have gained an interest for the Blinking Underdogs in one evening is beyond my comprehension. That music, ack. Outer Rim garbage.”

Beep. Beep.

Poe allowed himself to touch Finn’s forehead briefly. An indignant meddroid beeped shrilly and wiped Finn’s whole head with something smelling strongly of antiseptic. Poe got a noseful and made himself not think of his mother’s last days.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry! He’s beeping about grievous burns and compromised immunity, if you want to know. But you’ll make it, buddy, you’ll make it. They’re certain of it, all of them. As for me I – alright, alright, sorry, I didn’t think. And now I’ve gotta go or the General will have my head – not that it would – uh. Tell you what, buddy. You, well, if you could wake up soonish I’d love that, ‘cause we – I’d like you to still have some familiar faces around by then.”

/

“BB-8, you’ve got to help me there! They must have changed the medsystem when we moved, I can’t crack it anymore. I’m a pilot, not a programmer, that code is beyond my abilities!”

“Hell yes, I know that’s not a solution, you think I don’t know how it makes me? But shit, I’ve flown today, I’m flying tomorrow, and the next day, and basically every day except next Friday when I’m on training duty, and I _can’t sleep_ , for fuck’s sake!”

“No you can’t climb in bed with me, I know you’ve got a lullaby application somewhere and I don’t care, I’m not eight anymore and I don’t, I repeat I don’t want to risk having these nightmares again.”

“Yes, three pills, last night. Shit, who cares, I’ll take more caf afterwards. I _need_ it, BB-8. _Need_ it.”

“Please. Please, BB-8. That’s not for me. That’s for the Resistance. We all know I’ll break one day or another, don’t we? But right now I can’t, you know I can’t. Please.”

“What, ‘for Finn’? Now that’s low. Anyway if the Resistance fails he’s doomed like all of us. I need to be able to fly. _Please._ ”

“Come on, one week is too short. Yeah, alright, just for these two weeks and then I’ll go talk to a med. Thank you, buddy, thank you. And yes, I’m taking a shower. Sure. Right now.”

/

FN-2187 had been asleep. But the troopers who slept too long were put to eternal sleep, so he’d been trying to wake up for some time. He thought his efforts were finally fruitful, he hoped so. He needed to prove them – he’d been hearing some noises, fragments of conversation, for a while. Now he thought he could make out things more clearly. Yes. Regular blips, droids beeping, some clangs, that unmistakable antiseptic smell and all of that made him shiver because he was in a med bay and he was sure, absolutely sure he’d been there too long.

He had to open his eyes, had to move, had to show them…

The blips around him went faster.

He opened one eye, saw a blur of garish colours. Closed it. Shit, he couldn’t even see properly! The movement he made with his right hand to rub his face awoke a burning pain in his shoulder, but he had to wake, had to stand up.

Blipblipblipblipblip the noises went around him, frantic.

He pushed up, sat, howled in pain. An alarm was now blaring over the blips, and when he finally managed to _see_ what was in front of him it was nightmare stuff, horrible, unfamiliar colours, droids of unknown shape who would only beep and not talk.

“I’m alright! I’m alright, I promise!” The closest droid was trying to push him back in a lying position, was beeping something like a howl. “No, no, look, I can sit! I’m functional! Please!”

He held on the edges of his strange, too soft cot, resisted being pushed down in spite of the pain. Tried to move a leg to get to stand.

Nothing.

He had to. Had to. He forced himself to breathe slower, deeper. Closed his eyes. Willed his leg to move. His big toe spasmed. _No_! He thought, _no_!

He heard hurried steps, someone out of breath stopping by his cot. “Finn! Shit, he’s awake. Hey you, droid, is that normal? That’s too early, isn’t it? No, no, no, Finn, what are you trying to do? No! You can’t –“

“I have to, I have to stand, I’m functional, please, please, look, I’ll move, please let me try, I have to–”

“Calm down, buddy, calm. Calm. Breathe. Yeah. You can lean on me if you–”

“No! No, promise, I can hold on my own, please! I’ll walk! I can walk! Please let me try again. A few seconds and I can try again.”

The man was now helping the droid to push him back in a lying position. Gently. Weirdly. But he couldn’t, couldn’t allow him, and –

“Finn. Finn, look at me. Hey! Look at me. You know who I am, yeah? I’m Poe! Poe Dameron. Look at me.”

He looked up. “Poe. You’re Poe Dameron.”

“Yeah, buddy, yeah! That’s more like it. Last days coming back to you, huh?”

The man Poe Dameron looked relieved, but how could he when the scruff on his chin was nearly a full beard and his hair had grown down to the nape of his neck? And how came that FN-2187 was always partnered with _idiots_?

“Better now?”

“Dammit no, I’m not better! You have to let me walk and _you_ have to run as fast as you can and make you presentable. Don’t you know hair like that is against regulations? You don’t know what they do to troopers who don’t follow regulations, Poe. They’ll send you to reconditioning, that’s what they’ll do!”

“Hey–”

“And they’ll terminate me if can can’t walk, so get off me and let me move!”

“Oh shit. _Shit_. Hey. You’re safe. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to terminate anybody here. _Shit_. This isn’t working. Finn!”

The droid closest to Poe tried again to make FN-2187 lie down, kept beeping shrilly. He fought to get a foot on the ground.

“Poe?” another voice said, coming from behind a door. “Damn your pretty black curls, what are you doing here? Take off in ten minutes!”

“Just a moment, Snap! Finn’s waking up too early! That’s not good!”

FN-2187 tried to push off the droid, howled again in pain, felt Poe’s arm closing around, supporting him.

“Hey, pal. Tell me your name. What’s your name?”

“FN-2– ”

“I ain’t using that.” There was anguish in Poe’s voice.

“F- Finn. I’m Finn.” He heard himself breathing hard. Exhaled. “Where am I?”

“Oh thank the stars. You’re with the Resistance. Remember? We moved the base when you were asleep, but we’ve still got you.”

The droid seized the occasion to try again to push down on Finn, who tensed.

“Finn. Finn. The droid’s not angry or annoyed, she’s obstinate. She wants to help. You’re alright. You’re _functional_. Your spine was injured and you need to give the nerve re-connexions the time to strengthen, but I swear, you’re going to recover. You’ll walk. Promise. That’s not me guessing, that’s what she’s been telling you for the last five minutes and she’s a meddroid.”

Finn realised he was so exhausted that Poe’s arms were the only thing preventing his crashing down on the cot. He let himself go slack. Poe, looking like he was handling the most precious and fragile glass in the universe, lay him down slowly.

“Good, buddy, that’s good. You only need to lie down right now, let the bacta work. You’re alright. You’re alright. Good.”

“Fucking hell, Poe! Come right now! You want to mess up the mission before it’s even in space, you helium-headed Gungan? Your Stormtrooper isn’t worth it!”

“Oh damn. Don’t listen to him, he’s angry about me, is all. I’m coming, Snap! Sorry, Finn. Really gotta go now.”

“Poe!” Finn tried to catch Poe’s retreating hand, caught some part of the harness, half sat, felt the muscles in his back give and fell back on the pillow. “Don’t-”

“Fuuuck!” Poe howled. “Sorry. Sorry. I really can’t stay. Isn’t there a droid who can talk to Finn here? In a language he understands? Come on!”

“Sorry, commander Dameron!” said a metallic voice from a corner. “I’m just done recharging. The patient wasn’t supposed to wake up so early, that’s my downtime period. I’m coming!”

Finn eyed suspiciously the shiny thing walking towards him. He closed his hand on Poe’s harness.

“He’s a nurse, Finn. He’s all right. Let me go, please. Listen. Listen, Rey’s all right. She- she’s not here, but she told me to be there for you. You’ve got to get better for her, Finn. Get better, so we both can help her when she needs it? Calm down, lie there, listen to the droids, get better. For Rey. Please?”

“Rey.” Finn felt himself smile. Relief flooded in his whole body, soothing him. “She’s alright?”

“Yeah. You can do this?”

“I can.”

“Good,” said Poe, already at the door.

Finn watched him disappear in the corridor at a jog, adjusting his harness and putting on his helmet.

“I just made a fool of myself, didn’t I?” He asked to the empty air.

“I wouldn’t say so, sir.” That was the shiny droid. Nurse. “You seem to have experienced some traumatic events prior to your injury. I suggest you could talk to a specialised med team.”

“A what?”

“Now give me your arm, I need to put that catheter back in place, for fluids. Do you need anything? I’m here for your well-being.”

“My what?”

“Your well-being. It has been proved that feeling good hastens the recovery. Do you need me to call Commander Dameron back?”

“What???? Oh, that’s ridiculous. And incredible. My well-being!”

And Finn laughed and laughed until his back couldn’t stand it anymore.

/

“Hi, Finn.”

“Poe!”

The pilot was standing in the door, a small bag in hands. He looked freshly showered and shaven, had slicked his hair back with water, or tried to. Strands were already curling back over his ears and forehead and still were, in Finn’s opinion, entirely too long.

Poe caught his gaze. “I shaved the beard. It, huh, sort of caused you distress yesterday. I’d hate if any of my hair did that. Scare you. ‘m not used to it.”

“You look -” Finn was about to say good. But the last thing he wanted, for sure, was to encourage a Poe that was back to a flirting mood. “- tired.”

And that was true, too. He looked good and smiling and happy in an exhausted sort of way. The smooth jaw emphasised the sunken cheeks and the mostly well-behaving hair revealed a tense brow. Bloodshot eyes.

“I am. Too many missions, so few pilots. Though they say the lines are stabilising. It’s hard to tell when you’re spot in the middle, but I think they’re right. For a time, I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up on time.” Poe looked at his hands. There was a new scar there, pink and raised, emerging from his flightsuit sleeve. “I thought maybe we’d have our last stand here. But they haven’t found us. Or rather, those who did didn’t report back.” He looked slightly uncertain, smiled. “We’ve bought ourselves time to wait for Rey.”

“Rey! You didn’t tell me, yesterday. Where is she? You said she’s okay?”

Poe looked a little embarrassed. “It… seemed the right thing to say to help you. Thing is, I don’t know. She left with Chewbacca and Artoo on the Falcon. The General – that’s Leia Organa, she says she’d know if anything bad happened. Through the Force.”

“But you let her go? Alone?”

“Hey, I’ll tell that to Chewbacca and Artoo.”

“You know what I mean. Why?”

“She wanted to, Finn. At the time, everyone felt she had. You know, for the balance of the Force, the fate of the galaxy, all that. Luke Skywalker.”

Finn made an irritated gesture with his head. Hated the jolt it sent to his spine. “Ow. That’s ridiculous! All of that for an old guy who let you down so long ago. ”

“Some hope he’ll come back.”

“I hope _she_ ’ll come back!”

“Yeah. She’ll be changed, though, I guess. The Luke Skywalker I saw when I was a child was a very solemn man. Everyone thinks Rey will become a Jedi. Hell, that’s a new saviour they want. _I_ hope she’ll still want to fly.”

“You’ve talked to her?”

“I have. Nice girl, great pilot, it seems. I’d have loved to watch her during that Jakku run on the Falcon.” Something beeped on his suit. “And now I have to leave. Nice to see you awake, Finn.”

“Nice to see you, Poe.”

“Finn.” Suddenly Poe stepped forward, knelt beside Finn’s cot. “What the Order did to you. What I saw yesterday when you woke up – I hated it. Gave me the creeps. Buddy, you’re the strongest man I know to have been able to set aside such a conditioning. Don’t let them win, heh? You’re stronger than them. Just- just remember who you are.”

Finn tried to move his foot, failed. He didn’t feel strong at all, half paralysed in his medical cot.

Poe stood up. “And here’s for you,” he said, setting the small bag in Finn’s hands.

Then he was gone.

Finn looked inside the bag. There was his toothbrush, the slip of paper where he’d tried to make sense of the local rules, and a holovid case sporting the same logo and colours as the half-sticker he had appropriated.

/

“Nurse. Nurse?”

“Sir?”

“Can I try to stand up? Look, I can wiggle my toes pretty good.”

“That’s unadvisable, sir. Your spine is still fragile.”

“You said feeling good would hasten the recovery. Well, I don’t feel good. I feel bored.”

“You can occupy yourself with your arms and legs exercises, if you wish.”

“Oh? Yes, okay.”

“I have to say, sir, you’re the most obedient patient I ever had. It’s a pleasure to care for you.”

“Yes. Well. Obedience was sort of drilled into me. Nurse?”

“Sir?”

“My name is Finn. Nobody ever called me sir. You’ve got a name?”

“Of course! Nice of you to ask, sir. I’m MD-NR4.”

“Oh. But. ID numbers? Don’t droids mind?”

“I was named by the people who made me, cared for me, gave me a purpose. I’m very proud to be a part of the NR series. I like my name, sir, of course I don’t mind. I think that’s not the name shape that matters, but the intent for which it was given.”

“Oh. Well, please, call me Finn?”

“Finn.”

“MD-NR4? Where’s Poe? He went to visit me once and then never again.”

“Commander Dameron is flying right now, on an escort mission. He’s been flying a lot. He did come here yesterday evening, but you were asleep. That’s not the first time. He watches you for a while, then leaves. He tried to sing something once but that did strange things to your life constants so we made him stop. I think he likes to come in late in the evenings or during the night, that’s what he used to do when you were in a coma.”

“He did? Often?”

“He was already flying unreasonably often, so he came when he could. But yes, often, Finn. Yesterday he gave me this for you. I had to upload a sewing application to try to patch it up but maybe I should have chosen a leatherworking one. It’s not perfect.”

“Hey, that’s my jacket! Well, Poe’s.”

“I think you can say that’s your jacket, now, Finn.”

/

Finn would have loved to say he was enjoying the sunshine, but it drizzled. At least it didn’t pour and the air was rather warm. If water-saturated. And he _was_ enjoying the outside.

He’d been cleared for standing, was making his first steps, on crutches. It felt like he’d never done anything so difficult in his whole life.

There was a kind of high, prolonged whistle and a black X-wing emerged from the clouds, followed by the others. Finn made his slow, painful way towards the landing area. Pilots were already emerging from the cockpits, converging in a small crowd – an agitated crowd?

Finn tried to hurry, managed a few meters more, collapsed against a crate.

Poe emerged from the crowd running. That perpetually scruffy, large pilot – the one with three names, Something Snap Wexley? - was hastening after him, shouting something. They were converging towards Finn, who wondered if they were after him. But as they approached he realised they were too caught in an argument to notice him.

Snap Wexley was red in the face and kept throwing his hands up as he shouted. Poe was so white he looked grey as he turned to face the other, swayed, finally stood his ground.

“You wouldn’t have come on the spot on time,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re suicidal, Poe! Suicidal! Nobody, not even the best pilot of the Resistance, engages five Tie fighters with a fouled spherical joint on a jet!”

“Got them anyway, didn’t I. Just had to plan my path so I didn’t have to use the jets on retro, is all. That merchant couldn’t hold any longer on his own, Snap.”

“You didn ‘t _get_ that last one, Poe. You lost control on the loop and _ran_ into her. There are impacts all over your fighter.”

“Yeah, that was close. Still shot her.”

“Let me guess. Your hand fell on the switch at the end-loop jolt? That’s it, this time. That’s it. I’m reporting you. You’re suicidal.”

“I. Am. Not. Suicidal.”

“No? Then you’d better remember that nobody gets lucky all the time, Dameron! Fucking hell, you gotta understand you can _fail_.”

Poe’s cheeks coloured. “Believe me, I know I can. I’ve had a fucking great experience at failure, even. Or do you forget I’m the one who let spill capital info to the enemy? Come on, Snap, let me go.”

“No. Let’s go to the General. If you can look her in the eyes and swear you didn’t black out on that last loop, I’ll leave you alone. Poe? You’re running on empty. You’ve made a mistake. Don’t wait for the fatal one, hey?”

Poe looked up. Set his jaw. “Let’s go to the General, then.”

“Poe…”

“Commander Dameron?” said a droid that looked the exact same as MD-NR4. “I’m MD-NR2. Please, follow me to the med bay. My orders are to perform a complete checkup on you.”

“What? No! No, I can’t. You can’t.”

“We were specifically asked to run a drug panel. You’re not to leave the med bay until General Organa says so.”

“BB-8! You traitor!”

BB-8, who’d been rolling alongside MD-NR2, hid behind the taller droid and beeped dejectedly.

“I’m the traitor, Dameron,” said Pava from behind. “BB-8 came to me about that pill use of yours. Your week of grace has been up for five days, pal. What did you do? No sleep? Or you charmed someone else into becoming your dealer?”

“Shit, Pava, you bitch!” Poe hurled himself at her, fists raised. She dodged easily, let him fall on the ground where he remained, panting.

“Poe,” she said, “I know you’ll apologise as soon as you come back to yourself, so I’ll let that bitch pass. Right now, you’re a danger for yourself. I couldn’t let you become a danger for others.”

She bent down, extended a hand, trying to help Poe stand up.

“Don’t touch me.”

Finn willed himself to rise up, crawled on his crutches towards Poe, collapsed beside him.

“Finn?”

“Poe. You didn’t sleep, did you? I know you were in the med bay at night.”

Poe looked down, didn’t answer.

“Let them help you, friend. You told me to trust them, so trust them for yourself.”

“They’ll ground me,” said Poe, low and choked.

“Come on,” said Wexley like you’d talk to a child. “Better grounded than dead.”

Poe’s head went slowly up, his face grimmer than ever. His eyes glinted. “You sure of that, friend?” he said.

There was some sort of metallic hiss behind Wexley. “My oh my,” said MD-NR4. Two idiots at the last of their strength collapsed on the ground side by side. Back to the med bay it is, right now! And you, commander Dameron, if you don’t go willingly, you know we can make you.”

“I can walk,” growled Poe. He gestured to the crowd that had assembled around them. “Come on, people, get back to work! Show’s done. Take my arm, Finn, I’ll help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many notes, let's see.  
> First of all, you're free to imagine that first exposition paragraph with the Star Wars crawl, if you'd like.  
> After writing this, I feel simultaneously foul-mouthed and lacking the adequate vocabulary for insults and swearwords. Help? Still not a native speaker.  
> Also, there's a musical inside joke. Found it? Love inside jokes, I was once accused of having written some in an academic work.  
> And finally, I nearly ended this chapter on Poe blacking out (is that a word?) during that loop. Guess I don't like cliffhangers, even when I'm the one writing them!


	5. Chapter 5

His head swam, but hiding it had become a second nature. Poe would never have let show that picking up Finn on the ground had made him dizzy enough to see stars. He’d just held on, concentrating on not letting him fall.

Finn was securely back to his cot and Poe had been ushered to an adjacent examination room, where he was at the centre of a ballet of meddroids. He’d been made to undress and now they were weighting him, prodding him, directing lights in his eyes and sound beams in his ears and taking vials upon vials of blood that did nothing to help the dancing lights in his peripheral vision.

Worse thing was that while they were busy discovering all his dirty little secrets, robbing him of his way out and his freedom to fly, they were being kind about it. Their movements were gentle, overly careful in Poe’s opinion. One gave him a sheet and helped wrap it around him. Another shut off the heating, which made him realise he was sweating profusely and felt too warm.

A nurse droid went to look at him quizzically. “Your blood pressure and sugar levels are dangerously low,” he said. “It’s a testimony to your endurance that you still can stand at all. You must eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“This is an order, commander Dameron. Unless you’d like me to install a glucose perfusion.”

“All right, all right. Hey, that’s an emergency ration bar!”

“This is an emergency, commander Dameron.”

“Ain’t eating that. Tastes like sweetened shit.”

“I’ll take your word for it, commander Dameron. Now eat. Two of them.”

/

They were done. He put his T-shirt back on, was in the process of slipping on his flying suit when he realised he futility of it. He just tied the sleeves around his hips and exited the examination room, ignored Finn’s following gaze and went to sit down in a corner. BB-8 rolled towards him, settled at his side, beeped in sympathy. He glared.

After a while, he folded down and put his head in his hands.

/

“Dameron.”

Shit. He’d hoped the General would be the one in charge of the official scolding, but she must be absolutely incensed if she’d delegated to that asshole.

“General Captison sir.”

He stood up from his slouching crouch, too fast, had to stare at the wall ahead to steady himself.

“Is that what you call standing to attention, Dameron?”

Poe pointedly didn’t rectify his position. Looked directly into the other’s eyes.

“And is that how you’re wearing your uniform? Commander, in spite of all prior evidence, I keep hoping that the best pilot in the Resistance will hold himself to better standards and you keep disappointing me!”

“Sir.”

“I must say that little scene on the tarmac today comforts me in my opinion of you. Did you think of all the damage control we’d have to do when you showed everyone and their dogs what a braindead, suicidal _addict_ you are? Dameron. Your blood panel showed enough caf to keep a bantha awake and so much soporifics that it should not have been enough for _you_. That is if there wasn’t also such a high level of amphetamine metabolites that the medics are all aflutter about dangerous side-effects! By the Stars, _I_ wouldn’t give a damn if the news weren’t already on our back about you! Right now there’s one of our specialised teams combing through your quarters and your console, I swear we’ll get to the bottom of that sordid situation.”

“You can’t!”

“We absolutely can. General Organa gave the order herself for the investigation. You won’t put your hands on any kind of drug anymore, flyboy. You’re confined to the medbay until further notice, that’s _my_ personal order. And if you think of slipping out, remember that the droids here are held accountable.”

“What?” Poe finally rectified position, tried to breathe deeply and calm down. “General, sir. Please?”

“No.”

“Listen, General, I’ll get mad, staying here. I’ll get mad! Please. Just let me get out. My T-70 needs tending, won’t hurt anyone.”

“No way, Dameron. Can’t trust an addict.”

“Please!”

Poe hated the way his voice broke on the word.

“General, sir?” That was Finn. He was half reclining on his cot, looking like he was in pain, and also quite panicked, and, noted Poe with a jolt of tenderness, holding his ground in spite of everything. “General, you can’t let him go cold turkey if he’s hooked like that. He’ll crash down. He’s already close to it.”

“And who are you, boy?”

 _Oh no_ , thought Poe.

“I’m Finn, sir.”

“Finn? Doesn’t ring a bell. That’s your last name?”

“Don’t have one, sir.”

“Are you – No, wait, I remember. You’re that Stormtrooper, the renegade with a defective conditioning. Read Dameron’s report. Finn is the nickname he used for you, isn’t it? Your right ID is FN-something, a bunch of numbers or another.”

“I’m Finn, sir.”

“Oh, come on. The leopard can’t change his spots! Everyone knows Stormtroopers don’t get names. And how come you’re coming to Dameron’s rescue, right now? Got a hand in that drug trafficking, I’ll wager.”

Finn was clutching the sides of his cot so strongly his knuckles were grey. And finally Poe had enough. He threw himself on Captison, howling, shaking the man by the lapels of his formerly impeccable New Republic uniform. “You just leave him alone, you motherfucker!”.

“Dameron! You’re overstepping –“

“Shut up! You just shut up! This man’s name is Finn. Finn! Not FN-something! Not ‘that Stormtrooper’! Not ‘renegade’! Fucking hell, he was right under your nose the whole time of the Starkiller meeting and you don’t even recognise him! He’s a hero, that’s who he is, he’s the man who saved Rey, he’s the man who made it possible that you’re still standing there spewing bullshit, you pompous, ignorant asshole!”

“Stop it, Poe, stop it,” Finn was saying. “He’s your chief! He’ll – Nurse! Nurse!”

“Dameron!” the general was repeating, trying to undo Poe’s death clasp on his collar. But Poe’s anger, an anger he was just discovering but which was already reaching epic proportions, gave him a nervous strength he used to shake and shake the man some more. And now droids were coming into the fray, beeps and whistles adding to the mayhem.

Poe felt himself being pulled away, resisted for a while then let go of his quarry, found himself clutched tight to the hard breast of a nurse droid. The nurse was vibrating, alternatively shushing and humming in a way Poe had to admit was calming. He tried to catch his breath.

“General Captison,” said the nurse, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re unsettling our patients. I’m sure commander Dameron has registered your orders, but he’s in a fragile state right now and you’re disturbing his well-being.”

“I’m still your superior, droid.”

“You’re in a medbay, General, sir. I’m entitled to ask you to leave. Poe Dameron and Finn’s vital signals are markedly affected by your presence. You need to leave.”

“You’ll hear about that, droid. You too, Dameron.”

“Sir.”

Captison left and Poe let himself slide on the ground at the feet of the nurse.

After a moment he looked up at Finn. The man was lying on his back on the cot, rigid, looking blankly at the ceiling. It felt, to Poe, like he was repressing a massive tremor.

“Finn? You okay?”

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“Huh. Me? You heard them. I’m a prisoner but in name.”

“I mean. I mean, you talked to your superior without prompting! You, you insulted him! You aggressed him physically!”

“Oh. That.”

“Aren’t they going to decommission you? Sentence you?”

“Finn, Finn, Finn. He’ll be very happy to give me a blame or something. And certainly a lot of disgusting tasks to occupy my free time for a very long while when I’m well enough. That’s not like – we’re not- how can I say this. I think the thing is, we value each other here. Even the old farts like Captison. We’re not going to break someone because they speak their mind.” He rubbed his eyes. “And Captison isn’t going to do anything to you either. He doesn’t like you, obviously, but you’re, you’re too precious to us, you know?”

“Oh.” said Finn. “Oh my. Oh. What did you call him? Old fart. Asshole, I get that. That, huh, was appropriate. But, what was it, mother- motherfucker?”

“Wait. You never used that?”

“No.”

“Never heard before?”

“Nope. Obviously, I know what fucking is, and a mother, too. But motherfucker, never heard it used. I mean, a woman sure has to fuck sometime to become a mother, doesn’t she? Is it bad?”

“Oh, Finn. Finn, that’s a very, very bad word and it totally suits him.”

“Yeah? Good.”

“Finn?”

“Yes?”

“How come you’re so knowledgeable about drugs?”

“Ah. Not all drugs, just Speed. We were – they’re always giving us some, before training, before missions. Improves wakefulness, resistance and performance, you know. Well, obviously you know. But they don’t want to make complete addicts out of us. We, I mean the Stormtroopers, are all experts about how to come down afterwards.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And, uh, do many Stormtroopers crash down bad?”

“Hm. Nah. Not those who learn to know their limits. The others… Well. That’s a part of the selection process.”

“Fuck them.”

“Yeah. Poe?”

“Hmm.”

“You can do this. You’ll have a hard time in the next days, but you can do this.”

“You definitely can, commander Dameron,” added the nurse. “I’m taking upon myself not to follow general Captison’s orders to the letter, especially since they conflict with general Organa’s. We’ll help you, give you what you need. At least inside the medbay, where we have power to do so. There are also physical exercises that are known to –“

“Finn.”

“Poe?”

“There aren’t even windows in this bunkers. Not even monitors. I won’t be able to see them fly.”

/

All things considered, Poe thought the first twenty-four hours could have gone worse. They’d given him a dose. Very small, and he could definitely feel the aches and the cold and the craving, but that was just another physical sensation, something else his body was subjected to.

They’d warned him about lots of things. Sleepiness, they’d said, with lucid dreams. Or maybe sleeplessness. Unsurprisingly the droids were worried that it had been the latter, this first night, but he was immensely relieved that he still hadn’t slept – he still felt in no shape to confront those nightmares. Of course, that meant the bone-deep exhaustion, the inability to concentrate or even to think for more than a few seconds, the near-hallucinations in the corner of his eyes were back with a vengeance (were they ever gone?). But the difference was that nobody expected him to behave as if nothing was wrong. Nobody asked him for orders. Nobody expected him to be able to fly.

He could let go. Let himself drift. Feel nothing. Ignore what would come next. They’d warned him about depression, too. Maybe that was it? That blankness, the inability to care. But right now it was all right because he didn’t want to care.

Possible paranoia, they’d also said. Could he track any hint of it? He hadn’t hated Pava nor Wexley when they’d come to visit him this morning. Hadn’t felt like they were out to get him, even though the Force knew they _had_ gotten him. Snap had given him a small model of a black X-wing, looking horribly apologetic, and Poe had been civil about it. He’d even been nice to _Pava_ , who was glued to a recovering, one-legged Gilm. He’d only told them once that they were not, under any circumstances, to approach his T-70 and he’d been extremely mild in the way he’d told them about retribution should they overstep his order.

Hell, he had even been nice to the woman who’d come in to try and get him to open up about that torture session on the Destroyer. Yeah, he thought he’d been _very_ _nice_ while deflecting her prying comments.

There were still hours before night time, he was able to cling to wakefulness. He was fine.

And then there was Finn, who played a large part in Poe feeling fine. Fuck but the man had an incredible body, even after weeks of lying injured in a bed. In the state he was, Poe couldn’t do much more than admiring the view, but what an excellent view that was. Finn had spent most of the morning doing physical exercises and was at it again, working at his injured shoulder in trackpants and nothing else. Perspiration was beading on pectorals that still had a very enviable definition and looked deliciously smooth, only a thin line of curly hair going between them down to his navel.

If it had been just anyone else, Poe would have sworn they were showing off, but with Finn it seemed that it was just how it was. Task him to recover after a grievous injury and he’d be at it one hundred percent every day of the week, tackling physical therapy, in whatever garb felt the most adequate, as if it was a question of life and death.

He thought, or rather tried to think about it. Felt a pang of cold and shame. Of course Finn acted like that. Life and death. In his previous life, it would have been.

Finn was now standing, walking on crutches with a kind of exact intensity, five paces one way, turn around and five the other way and back to the beginning. His hands were slightly trembling.

“Hey there,” Poe said, trying for a smirk. “This floor will still be here tomorrow for you to walk on. Shouldn’t you be resting for now?”

Finn looked up, perspiration like a sheet on his forehead, grin slightly forced. “Helps with boredom,” he said. “The days are long here when you’re alone with droids. However nice, MD-NR4, however nice. You should try it, Poe. Running around, doing crunches, push-ups, I don’t know. Would help with the craving.”

“Thanks, pal, but right now I feel like walking from here to your cot would be the end of me. Nearly. For real, you can take it easy, you know?”

“I’m fine – OW.”

“Hey! You alright?”

Finn was supporting himself on tense arms, jaw clenched. He managed to get to his cot and collapsed there.

“Ow.”

“Need help?”

“The back spasmed, that’s all. Ouch. Oh damn but it hurts!”

“That’s what happens when – nevermind. Know what? You need a massage.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“Oh, Fi- What about if I show you? MD-NR4, hey, NR4! Got some oil somewhere?”

“Of course, Commander Dameron, but you know our team is perfectly –”

“You heard Finn, he’s tired of droids – sorry. You know he needs – NR4, tell me you understand, eh?”

“I understand, Commander Dameron. Here’s the oil, and I’m out. I’ll close the curtain.”

“I need what, Poe?”

Poe scrambled desperately for some harmless half-truths, but his mind was much too addled for that. He opted for sincerity.

“Don’t know what this droid thought he understood, huh. But I – human touch. I think. Given in kindness. And also something that helps your muscles. Never had a massage, really?”

“That’s when you rub your muscles? Or stretch them? I know how to do that.”

“That’s when they’re rubbed by other people. Feels better that way. Want to try?”

Finn tensed minutely and Poe wondered at the intensity of his own hurt. But then Finn sighed.

“Yes. I’d like to.”

“Alright. Lie on your stomach, here I come.”

/

Poe couldn’t pry his eyes from his hands on Finn’s skin. White upon black, it should have awaken ugly memories but didn’t – really, it was tan upon dark brown and it was mesmerising. He realised the sight was one he’d fantasised about since, well, since this unexpected, glorious brown head had emerged from the white and black of the helmet. A good thing that he was presently so knackered, withdrawal clamouring in his head to be heard, or his emotion would soon have translated into needing to hide the biggest, hardest of all hard-ons.

“Wow,” he said, feeling self-conscious about how husky he sounded. “Your back is but one enormous cramp. I’ll go lightly.”

Finn was tense, head slightly raised and neck hard as stone. He wasn’t moving, didn’t let out anything, not even a shiver or a groan. Poe worked on for a while, kneading and pressing on the skin but not on the muscles below, exploring from those remarkable shoulders to the unexpected dimples of the lower back, avoiding the impressive, tender-looking scar that bisected Finn’s back.

“You’re –” he blurted. Damn his half-dead brain. He’d definitely thought that Finn was gorgeous, but no way he’d say that. “You’re lucky to be alive. That’s a damn big scar.”

No answer. Poe went on, deepening his touches, revelling in the texture of this supple, oil-slicked skin.

Then Finn sighed, rested his half-turned head on his forearms. Closed his eyes.

Poe kept working, pressing deep, concentrating his ministrations on a particularly stubborn knot of muscles. The feeling was incredible. Powerful. Having Finn slowly uncoil, muscle by muscle, slowly open, barrier after barrier. Being the first one to touch him so, the first to overcome defences that were probably so ingrained that he didn’t realise he had put them up. He didn’t think he’d ever felt such a heart-gripping tenderness before.

Finn groaned, and as Poe shifted to his trapezes, uttered the most incredible, throaty, half-asleep moan Poe could ever remember hearing. Fuck but this was doing him things he could never have imagined were possible right now.

Turned out droids were able to generate a knocking sound when requiring entry from behind a curtain.

“I’m sorry, Finn, Commander Dameron,” said the metallic voice. “A Mister Suhail is here to visit you, Commander.”

Suhail. Well, Suhail would probably have something for him and that wasn’t as if he could say he was otherwise engaged.

“Alright, one minute to make myself presentable and he can come in.” Poe trailed his hand one last time on Finn’s back. “Okay, buddy, end of session. Hope it helped.”

“Yeah…” said Finn with what truly sounded like his bed voice. Fuck. Finn raised himself on his elbows, turned his head towards Poe, didn’t try to sit up or to switch to lie on his back. Looked sheepish.

Oh. Yeah. Of course. Finn was young. And had just discovered a new world of touch. These nerve connexions were certainly healing well. Poe wondered if he’d been thinking of Rey.

/

“Hi, Poe. Been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Suhail, meet Finn. Finn, meet Suhail.”

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“So, how are you?”

“I’ve seen better days. And you? Still got the speeder?”

In the corner of his eye, Poe saw Finn give a start.

“Nah. Sold it. Was getting on in years, you know.”

“Oh how I know. Sorry I passed such a heap of rust on you.”

“And Beryv didn’t like it very much. Said it was dangerous. Had been tampered with.”

“Of course I tampered with it! Fine-tuned it, I’ll – nevermind. How’s Beryv?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

And damn. The man looked hopeful.

“I’m sure you’ll find the right man one day, Suhail,” said Poe, trying to sound as commiserative and uninterested as possible.

He massaged his temples, realised his hands were ever so slightly shaking.

“Headache, Poe?”

“Yeah.”

“I – when I saw Wexley in the morning, he told me he’d told you I wished to visit. He said you had mentioned our night on Yavin, the one with the moonlight and the cactus. So I thought -”

Poe, still spying Finn from behind his tented hands, saw his jaw tense, the line of his mouth becoming sort of pinched. Fuck. He knew. Poe didn’t understand how it was possible but the man _knew_.

“So I thought,” Suhail went on, “that you meant this.”

He rummaged in the satchel he’d taken with him, dug out a large, opaque ration bag, gave it to Poe. It made a gurgling sound.

Poe looked inside, smiled tight. “Thanks, pal. I see we understood each other perfectly.”

“Poe. Do you think it’s wise?”

“Ha. Don’t give a damn about wise. ‘m not a Jedi, in more ways than one. I’m going to need it, and soon.”

Suhail put a hand on Poe’s forearm, said “hey, buddy” – Finn started again – “take care, huh?”

Poe cuffed him on the arm but his heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll try. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.”

“See you, then.”

“Yeah. Thank you, Suhail.”

/

“What’s in there?” Finn had waited until Suhail’s back was a safe distance away, but not a second more. He looked distressed – or was that angry?

Poe grinned, checked around for any hint of a meddroid and made a mock salute with the bottle, still in its bag. “That, my friend, is Yavin 4’s best beverage. Made from cactus fruit. Mostly.”

“That’s an alcoholic drink?”

“Definitely! The strongest. The most bitter. The most likely to get you under the table. The best.”

Finn had that caged, fight-or-flight expression Poe realised he assumed everytime he was about to do something heroic. “Are you trying to exchange one addiction for another? I thought you were better than this.”

“Don’t like alcohol? That’s a part of your conditioning?”

Finn flinched.

“Oh, shit, sorry, buddy.” But Finn flinched again at the last word. “Sorry! You know I didn’t think, I – I don’t normally hit so low. Shit, you know that’s the headache talking, don’t you?”

“Poe. Why don’t you ride out the withdrawal? Drinking that right now will only hurt you. Yeah, going down isn’t going to be pretty. But you held against much worse aboard the Finalizer, didn’t you?”

It was Poe’s turn to flinch. “Low blow for a low blow, hey, Finn? But sure. Against Hux’s minions’ torture, I held.” He winced. Felt a muscle spasm in an area where they’d – _No_. “Same with withdrawal. I can hold on. Hell, it’s not even that horrible right now. But against _him_. What _he_ did. You can’t – I have nightmares, Finn. Nightmares that feel more real than anything happening right now! I can’t – I’m not strong enough to face them!” He closed his eyes briefly, felt the sand-like scraping.

“Oh. So you’ve been avoiding sleep, that’s why you did it. For how long?”

“Avoiding sleep, or medicating it. When I’m knocked down strong enough I don’t dream.” He sighed. “I know I’ll sleep tonight. Been awake too long, got no caf to help.” He raised the bottle. “That’s why I intend to get sloshed. Methodically, thoroughly sloshed. So that if Kylo Ren tries to enter my mind again he gets so dizzy he has to quit.” He grinned mirthlessly.

“I see. I – good luck. I’ll be there, tonight, I mean, not far, if you need me. Even if it’s only to shake you awake. But Poe, you know you’ll have to face it, and soon.”

“That or self-destruction, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I’d face it. I’d face it, I swear, if only I knew how.”

Finn looked lost in thought for a while. He finally asked: “that man, Suhail, does he know about this? The nightmares?”

“No. Of course not. He only thinks I’ve got a bad case of cabin fever, I guess. Or that I’m as much a bad boy as ever.”

“But still, he should realise that’s not what you need?”

“I guess he does. You heard him.”

“And he still gave you the bottle. Let you use him.”

“Hm. Maybe you can see it that way. See, Suhail always wanted to please.”

Another drawn silence. Then Finn said. “I’d never do this. Never be like that. Never let anyone use me again.”

Poe should have felt shame but instead he felt the smile come, his first open, genuine smile in a long while. “Of course you wouldn’t, Finn, I'm sure you wouldn’t.”

Finn shook his head, just a little. His echoing smile was small but it was there. “Hey, can I have a taste?” he asked.

“Sure. As long as you leave me most of the bottle. You’ll see. It’s _devastating_.”

He opened the bottle, passed it to Finn who took a rapid sip.

“Ouch. It’s vile!”

“Told you so. Hey, Finn.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to sleep near me tonight. I’ll probably shout a lot. The bunker parts that were supposed to make for individual rooms are still in crates somewhere but we can ask them to set up temporary insulation walls.”

“You know, Poe, back with the First Order, we never slept alone. Always in dorms. I – prefer it that way. I’ll put up with your shouting.”

To his shame, Poe couldn’t help the relief flooding through his veins.

/

It worked. At first, it worked. Poe couldn’t have said when he fell asleep, so gradual a fall into incoherence and unconsciousness he managed to negotiate.

He woke up a solid four hours later in the dead of the night, his tongue like a dead thing in his mouth, his head pounding, his mind blissfully free of any kind of dream. Far on the right, a greenish light was twinkling. He could hear Finn’s regular soft snores – ha. It seemed that even with that kind of injury the man slept on his back.

Yeah. The beginnings of the mother of all hangovers were a small price to pay. He smiled, then tumbled abruptly in the nightmare. _Lucid_ nightmare.

He hissed. Or maybe that was the door of the torture room. Had the red, flashing lights been so blinding in real life? Had they pulsed like that in the inside of his brain? Did they paint everything red, red like the blood on his face on his wrists in his mouth on his tongue that he was biting, biting in the laughable hope not to let anything escape?

There had been blue in the real scene, dark steel-blue panels and highlights on armours and helmets, cold light reflected on his restraints, and maybe that was better than the blood-red he was drowning in. He tried to cling on the image of white light. But with the idea of blue came the _cold_. That slippery, slithering, excruciating cold insinuating in his mind, crawling, slow, unstoppable. Like the last time, he felt completely helpless. He wanted to shout, but couldn’t, wanted to cry, wanted to howl in horror. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t.

The thing in his mind began to pick out memories. Fell like a carrion bird on the good ones, twisted them into unrecognisable hulks. Tore his joy of flying out of his mind, made it into a manic addiction. Found that night on Yavin, that time of drunken rambling, mindless music and general good time with Suhail, turned it on its head, shaped it into the sordid use of a stranger for escape. And with each new wound his mind turned colder. Blander. Numbed with fear. Sitting on his mother’s lap, an A-wing commands in his hands – his mother’s death. A sunrise over gracious, tall buildings – the shards of an exploding planet. Return from a mission, elation over saving lives – being so weak he let spill everything, exposing BB-8, Luke Skywalker, Rey, setting into motion this open, horrible, cruel war.

He tried to fight. This was his own mind. Only his own mind, reliving that horrible experience, colouring it with guilt and alcohol. There hadn’t been such cold back then. Only pain, pain and terror and helplessness. Mind-searing pain.

The alien thing inside him chuckled at that with the gleeful amusement of a twisted child tearing out the wings of a butterfly. Pain? It said. That’s easy.

Poe finally howled. Howled and desperately hoped this would be enough to wake up, to make this end.

“I’ll do it as an exercise, said the twisted voice inside. My master will like it. You’re easy. Your mind is – muddled, soft. Ha. Drunk. You’re making it easy for me, pilot, so easy. You’re calling to me. Bonding to me.” With that, the cold and the pain merged as one, latched onto his mind, wrenched off Finn. Poe’s hands on Finn’s skin. Poe’s jacket on Finn’s back. How weak, insisted the nightmare. How weak and helpless and disgusting.

Now wait. Poe would never think of this thing between Finn and himself, whatever it was, as weak. Certainly not as disgusting. This wasn’t him, that wasn’t his mind, there really was someone else in here, and he had to stop him. He tried to summon a part of his thoughts that weren’t yet addled by the horrifying presence. Scrambled for a plan. What had he done, the last time? There had been a Stormtrooper. The idea of a Stormtrooper resolving into Finn, wrenching him out of the dream.

He let the nightmare envelop him, brought to the surface the phantom Stormtroopers that still roamed on the edges. Willed one to remove his helmet. Concentrated, or tried to. Helmet went up, armour fell down, revealing a pale face and a black uniform. Hands holding a grim-looking syringe. Syringe plunging into his arm, like - no. _No_! Finn, his mind insisted. You’ve got to find Finn. Finn! Where are you?

“Poe.” Came the answer. And Finn, this Finn of his dream, wasn’t wearing the Stormtrooper armour anymore, had put Poe’s jacket on. “Finn,” Poe said. “Help me.” Finn looked panicked, and that, more than everything else, made Poe think that it was more than a dream. He nearly could feel Finn at his side, nearly could hear his accelerated breathing. Yes, it was more than a dream but still within it, within the nightmare, because the red lights, the dark smooth walls, the torture table, the horrible presence in his mind, everything was still there. “I can’t,” Finn said. “Poe, that’s Kylo Ren, I can’t. I can’t, you’ve got to wake up. That’s the only way.”

“You’re linked to me, flyboy,” the voice was saying. “You can feel it, I can feel it.” There was the impression of a giggle, a young man in love with his own power. “We’re going to have such _fun_ , you and I. I’ll dig and dig and I’ll find where you are, yes I will. Find your little base and your little gang of pilots and your old woman of a general. My master will be proud of me. Come on, pilot, don’t you feel the link? There’s a _direction_ in it. Feel it.”

Yes, Poe thought. Yes, there definitely was the impression that Kylo Ren was – somewhere. That if he concentrated, he could find him. Tell the others. Fight back. If only he could concentrate. But his mind was so addled, his thoughts so muddy with alcohol and cravings and exhaustion that it felt like he couldn’t even find himself. He tried. Only felt like he was dissolving between the stars of the whole Galaxy. He panicked, struggled to bring together the fragments of his thoughts.

There was a sensation of annoyance and disgust at his confusion. A flash of anger. Pain, again. A howl that was probably his own. More prying, more digging.

“Poe,” Finn was repeating. “Poe, don’t listen to him. Don’t try to find him. He’ll find you instead. Poe, you’ve got to wake up. Poe! Help!”

And something changed.

It came as a whisper of calm, a smooth patch of sea inside a storm. Grew. “Little Ben is at least right on one thing,” said a new, female voice. “Drunk like that, you’re making it easy for him. You’ve got strength, if only you let yourself use it, Poe Dameron. Strength enough to resist him. And Finn has, too. You called to him, he called to me. I felt you both. You could learn. We’d work well, we three. Against little twisted Ben.”

Little Ben. Poe liked that. Little twisted powerful lost Ben hiding inside his Sith costume. He conveyed his approval. Rey laughed. “Here’s for you, pilot.”

His dream switched abruptly to a sunset on a desert planet. Warm metal of a stranded ship behind his back, cooling sand under his feet. Finn at his side, their shoulders touching. Rey sitting on the ground, wearing an old Rebel helmet, visor stained and roughened by the sand. Peace.

And now, Rey said, wake up.

And he did.

Three meddroids were twirling and beeping around him, all kind of lights blinking on their breast panels. He heaved, turned, vomited bile on the closest of them. Propped himself in a sitting position. Looked around. In the faint light of the morning seeping through the door, he saw similarly agitated droids circling around Finn’s bed, who was thrashing around in his sleep. And who then uttered a strange sigh, half anguished and half relieved, and woke up.

Their gazes met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, long chapter. I could have split it in two but I wanted to get to that bit of plot advancing at the end. Hope you liked!
> 
> Also, a warning : I'm probably not going to keep on updating every few days in the near future. Woooork! It's out to get me. But I'll do my best. Getting such wonderful reactions from you definitely makes me wish to write more!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monster of a meandering chapter. With added pizza and some Ziggy Stardust. Because I can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide ideations in this chapter.

BB-8 entered chirping in the medbay. It echoed inside Finn’s head like a First Order fanfare.

“Can you keep it lower, BB8?” he asked. “Some of us had a bad night.” He tried to sit up, groaned at the pull in his back, opted for lying down and massaging his temples.

Poe, from his reclining position on his cot, just moaned and threw his arm over his eyes. He looked thoroughly destroyed, pale enough to appear grey and the trembling in his hands now unmistakable.

Finn wondered if he’d borrowed a bit of Poe’s headache. His memories of the night were muddled, but he thought he had been with Poe somehow, in what felt like looking over the other’s shoulder at the worst of his terrors. While there had been peace at the end – a hint of Rey? - he couldn’t shake he impression of a lingering malevolent presence just beyond his reach. And pain. Anguish. Fear.

And judging from the look they had exchanged upon waking, Poe knew.

BB-8 rolled to Poe’s side, uttered one lonely beep at the lowest of his range. Poe made a soft sound and let fall his hand to pat the droid on his, was that his head? His head.

A woman appeared at the curtain, preceded by the sound of her footsteps on the concrete floor. Finn looked down. She had sensible, noisy heels, and what he supposed were civilian clothes. A badge that he couldn’t read at this distance. Her middle-aged face was framed by braids that looked a lot like General Organa’s. She smiled, an open smile with just the right amount of sympathy and attention and as her eyes went to rest on Poe, a hint of sorrow. Finn thought she wore this all like a helmet, hiding everything real inside.

She nodded to Finn, went to Poe and began to talk to him in low, calm tones.

Poe smiled a little crookedly, sighed and fished the moonshine bottle from under his mattress. Finn saw he was doing his best to contain the tremor in his hands as he gave the bottle to the woman.

“I’d have given it to the droids anyway,” Poe said, his voice rough. “Been convinced that thing actually made the night worse.” He pushed himself up, went to stand beside the woman. “You’re sure you want a session now? I’m knackered.”

“I don’t know, Commander,” she said. “Do _you_ think you want that session?”

“Oh, all right, okay. I’m coming.”

He followed her to some door on the side of the bunker. Finn prepared himself for a painful morning of trying to move his legs. BB-8 rolled to him and chirped, thankfully low. Finn patted him on the head. More chirping.

/

The door opened so violently it clanged on the wall. Poe sprang out of the room like a jack-in-the-box. He stopped abruptly, exhaled, turned back.

“You’re. Not. Helping,” he growled. “This is not helping at all! Give me solutions, Doctor!”

“Poe,” said the woman. “I know it’s hard at the moment, but I’m offering you the solution. You’ve got to work through your trauma. I doesn’t work like a switch or a pill. Deep inside, you know it, don’t you?”

“My trauma is my own!” Poe yelled. “So stop prodding at it! You don’t know! You can’t know how it was!”

“Nonetheless, I’m a specialist. I was trained to help people like you. Poe, we’ve _got_ to work together.”

“And stop trying to involve my mother’s death in that mess. She died twenty-four years ago. That’s the past. I know how to live with it. I want solutions for what is happening right now, fucking hell! Find me a way to stop these nightmares! They’re dangerous!”

He turned and rested his forehead on the wall. “Or give me back the sleeping pills. They work.”

The woman looked briefly horrified, then composed herself. “You’ve agreed to work with us about your drugs use, Poe. Of course you remember that you agreed it is the path towards flying again?”

Poe’s face convulsed then went slack. “Fuck. You.”

“Do you think you are fit to fly right now?”

His shoulders slumped. “No. But I’ll be. Mine to decide.” He strode towards his cot, picking up one of Finn’s small hand-exercise balls on his way, sat and began to throw the ball on the walls, going for increasingly complicated rebounds.

The woman watched for a while and left.

Poe smirked.

/

“You’re good with that ball,” said Finn after some time.

“Ha. That’s _easy_. And I picked it out of an old holodrama about a prison camp. I'm sure she knows. You should see how good I am with a shoe.” He blinked. “Speaking of, that damn light above is hurting my eyes. Mind if I switch it off?”

“Huh, no?”

Poe smiled, teeth flashing. “You just watch.”

He picked up one of his boots, threw it across the length of the room. The angle of the rubber heel hit the small contact and then, surprisingly, the boot bounced back to Poe’s hand.

“Wow!” exclaimed Finn. “Nice throw!”

“Years and years of experience at laziness. I don’t like to get back up to switch off the lights. When you can’t wield the Force, you wield the shoe. Want to see it again?”

“I thought you didn’t want the light.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun.”

“Show off.”

“Sure. Look.” The shoe flew again, hit again, flew precisely back.

“You know you were using the Force right now?” said a new female voice.

Poe didn’t miss a beat, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to give back a notch. The boot flew again, came back. “The light’s really awful,” he mumbled. Then he flashed his smile again, to Leia Organa who stood in the entrance. “No way, General. And you know it.”

“I told you I wondered. Now I’m sure of it.”

She went to sit on Poe’s cot. In her unsmiling mouth and tired eyes, there was more true sympathy than in any of the professional smiles of the previous woman.

“I felt something the day before the Starkiller attack,” she went on. “Could have been you, or Finn. And the same tonight. Finn or you.” She raised her gaze on Finn, her brown eyes soulful and deep. “Maybe both? Stronger together.”

“I don’t have the Force!” Finn felt compelled to say, very uncomfortable at being singled out. “I – I saw Rey, I heard what she did. I’m nothing like her! I can’t wield a lightsaber for shit! I can’t make people obey me like she did! I’m certain I can’t resist an ingression in my mind!”

Poe chuckled darkly. “And we all know neither can I.”

General Organa patted Poe’s thigh. “Hush. Remember what I told you? Against Vader, that one time, even Luke couldn’t. You shouldn’t beat yourself like – oh, who am I kidding. Of course, you won’t stop beating yourself for that. You’ve got to forgive yourself, hm, Poe? What happened… It was horribly unfortunate, but that’s all. Evil bad luck. Nothing you could have done.”

“But Vader tortured you, too. And you held.”

“Only because he didn’t try any mind trick on me. He had other means to get what he wanted. And,” she added hoarsly, “perhaps only because Vader, though he did both, valued wielding power over inflicting pain. Unlike…”

It was Poe’s turn to pat the General on her thigh, to Finn’s astonishment. Then, to his growing horror, Poe passed an arm over her shoulders and bent his head sideways above her. On a superior! But the General didn’t seem to mind. Brought her own head close.

Her eyes went up again to meet Finn’s. “The Force is with you, Finn. And with you too, Poe.” She raised a hand against Finn’s jerking movement of denial and Poe’s more subdued head shake. “Oh, not like Rey. You both feel like a trickle where Rey’s an ocean. But trickles gather and make strong rivers sometimes.”

“We weren’t doing anything last night! We were just sleeping!” said Finn.

Stormtroopers weren’t meant to touch things like the Force or mingle with those playing with the structure of the universe. It never did good to be singled out.

“And I’m told you had simultaneous, spectacular nightmares. Were you both sleeping, too, before the Starkiller attack, when I sensed you both? Maybe you find each other in sleep, and the Force, too. I had never felt something like that from you before, Poe. Even though that thing with the shoe… I should have guessed earlier.”

Poe grinned a little. “Least useful Force trick ever, then.”

The General looked pensive. “I don’t know. The Force probably colours everything you do, just a little. You really are an exceptional fighter pilot.”

“It’s got nothing to do with the Force! Piloting, it’s just – just knowing where you are. Where you have to be. Find the point in time where everything happens. Where you can move and bend anything. It’s just about, about levers, about balance –“

“Exactly.”

“Hm.”

“I’ve been wondering about this last mission of yours, you know. Wexley is certain you blacked out. He says you weren’t answering comm and that he saw you slumped on your commands in the cockpit. That you were going to collide with that Tie fighter. And yet. You’re here. What happened?”

Poe nodded and rubbed his eyes. “I did black out on that last loop. Had been seeing stars for a while. Woke up with that Tie in my face.” His eyes rose, caught Finn’s gaze. Finn realised that his irises weren’t as dark as he’d thought, saw flecks of green around the warm brown. Shuddered at the idea that these eyes could have shut forever, faraway in a collision with a fighter. He wondered at his emotion. Attachments were – new.

“I think I could feel the fear from the other pilot. I definitely, I could feel that there were two of us. That we were both going to die. And then I knew that perfect moment was there. I saw exactly where to shoot. So I did. So I’m here. And the other’s not.” Poe smirked. “But every seasoned pilot has a bunch of stories like this.”

“Oh, Poe,” sighed the General. “You’d been running on empty for quite a while before that scare, hadn’t you? What did you think? What did _I_ think, that I didn’t see it? You should have reported. Let us help you.”

“What did I think? That I was buying you time, General. Admit it. It’s much more convenient that I’m out of commission right now than one month before. And you’re one to talk.”

“I – yes, all right. We didn’t have much time to care for our own health for a while.’ She sighed. “Yet. Poe. When would you have stopped? What if the next scare had been while you piloted a transport? People in there with you?”

“I stopped taking people with me in the last days.”

Poe breathed deeply, opened his mouth again. Closed it. Seemed to hesitate. Clenched and unclenched a fist. “General. You say I should ask for help. You do think the Force was involved last night. So I – here’s me asking for your help. I _need_ to stop these nightmares.”

“Stop them? I still have nightmares sometimes. Not often, and they’re not as bad as they used to be. I think Han had them worse for a while. They’ll always plague people who – people like us. I’m sorry. It’s a case of being able to face them, not to stop them.”

“No! You don’t understand. I don’t have the time to _face_ them. They’re dangerous! Listen. _Kylo_ _Ren_ comes in those.”

“Well, that’s not so –”

“No! I mean, of course my mind is going to – but that’s not it! He’s not a Kylo Ren I’m building out of my fears, in my own mind. He’s real! You, you said you felt the Force, well, there’s your son in my brain at night, using my nightmares as a backdoor, using the Force, going after me.”

The General flinched. Then looked at once terribly sad and worried.

“He’s raping my mind!” Poe yelled. “Raping my mind, and with a purpose. Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “If you can’t do anything with the Force, just tell them to give me back the pills. So that I don’t dream.”

“Doctor Candonopsis talked about this. I didn’t want to believe it, but I see she had reasons to worry. By the Force, my boy, of course I’ll never do that! Are you so bent on destroying yourself? Poe. It’s the drugs speaking. The withdrawal. Ren’s not real! He’s after all of us, but he can’t touch you like that. The Force, yes, but only in that you seem to be able to call to Finn and he seems to feel you. The rest is a side effect of - it’s. It’s but your mind playing tricks on you!”

“Please. Please! Ren is like a foreign tumour in my brain. Growing, prodding, pressing. He’s looking for us. Asking for the base location. And I can’t. You say I’ve the Force, but I sure can’t hold him out by myself. Tell her, Finn. She says we were bonded. I know I felt you. Tell her!”

Finn looked up at the General, shifted to Poe. Couldn’t hold his gaze. His night memories were so muddled, he wasn’t even sure what he wondered about could even be possible. And the General was a superior, someone you didn’t annoy with vague hypotheses. “I – I don’t remember much,” he said. “It’s all so foggy. I do remember something foreign – scary. And maybe Rey at the end. She made it better.”

“Rey?” said the General. “That must have been your own dream, Finn. But see, it’s only Poe’s nightmare seeping into your own. Nothing as fearsome as an intrusion from Ren!”

“You don’t believe me,” said Poe, trying to calm down. “But is it so impossible? Please, General, please. In the off chance that I’m right. If you don’t want to help me, at least let me go! I’m a danger for everyone here. Just give me an old thing, I know there’s a B-fighter rotting away somewhere. Give it to me, I’ll go as far as possible, might even bait Ren there.”

“Oh Poe. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you. You’ll get better. It’s only temporary! You’ll stay here where people care for you. Love you. Can help you fight your demons. You’ll be able to get out when you’re all right. You’ll fly again, I swear it.”

“Leia, no. No! Don’t cage me here! He’ll find me. Us. Finn, I know you believe me. Tell her. Please.”

Did Finn believe Poe? He thought he did. There had been unsettling things in that nightmare, things he never saw in Poe but had known from before. “Ma’am,” he said. “What if Poe told the truth? Aren’t there ways to know? Ways to help him? Teach him? You say he has the Force.” He could see the small denegation signs the General was trying to make.

“Finn,” she said. “You’re not helping him.”

“Yes,” said Poe at the same time. “Teach me, at least. What can I do? Because if there’s nothing, if you leave me nothing, then I only can –”

“You can only what,” said the General, her voice toneless.

“Kill myself,” mouthed Poe.

Finn felt horror at that, a horror he knew had been ingrained into him by his conditioning – disposing of your own life was the ultimate transgression. But the fear that went with it was his own.

“Never,” said the General. “Hear me, Poe? _Never_. You stay here, and under constant supervision. Until we’re sure you’re not thinking about that anymore. Until the paranoia and the suicide ideations are gone.” She breathed in, a sniffling breath that made Finn realise she was crying. “Oh my boy. My boy. How didn’t we see that we were breaking you? I’m sorry. So sorry.”

She hugged Poe with all her might, resting her head against his chest. But Poe kept his arms rigid down his side, the trembling in his hands conspicuous again. Clenched his jaw.

“I’ll do my best, General,” he said. “I hope you didn’t doom all of us.”

She rose at that, stroked the side of his unshaven jaw.

“Take care,” she said, and left.

/

Poe shrank on his cot, taking his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he said. “If I’d thought she’d react like that I’d have kept my big mouth shut. At least I’d still have a chance to steal a ship and get away.”

“Wait. Wait. _You_ ’re the Resistance hero who fights until the end. You’re not the one trying to flee at the first occasion, are you? _I_ am.”

“Seems to me you didn’t flee that last time. And if I fight and lose, everyone is lost with me. Finn. You believe me, don’t you? This ain’t paranoia. You saw. You were there. You called Rey. Didn’t you?”

“Yes. She brought us in her dream on Jakku. Why always Jakku?”

“She could have brought us on Dac for all I care. As long as there was peace. But I can’t hope I’ll find the place by myself everytime. Or that she’ll come on time. Come at all. What am I gonna do?”

“You’re asking this to me? The hell if I know, Poe. I was a Stormtrooper, remember? Not a Jedi. You know more about the Force than I do. Can’t you find anything?”

“You have the Force, you think?”

“Don’t know. Never tried to switch off the light with a boot. It would seem we did something together with it last night, though.”

“Yeah. Finn, how does it feel when you shoot? You were pretty good with the TIE guns for someone who’d never touched one before.”

“You mean, do I feel the Force? What you said about finding the place where everything works. Everything balances. I thought I knew about that when I heard you talk. It makes me good with a blaster. Is that the Force?”

“Maybe? A trickle, she said. For you and me. Not even enough to know if it really is. I’ll be damned if I know how it could help fighting that fucker inside my head. Kylo Ren is strong like the Skywalker he is.”

“Isn’t there a place you could find in your mind, like Rey’s sunset? A memory, a time where Ren can’t touch you?”

“That’s not – it’s not like it seems it works. Every good memory he could find, he tore it away, twisted it unrecognisable. Right now I’m feeling like I’ve never grieved so much in all my life.”

“Oh. I. What about silly memories? Ridiculous things?”

“I’ll let you know a hero of the Resistance never does ridiculous things.” Poe managed to retain his outraged demeanour for half a second, then the smile lit up, wide.

Oh shit, thought Finn. Shit. How does he do that when he’s so broken inside? And does he know what it makes me wish these teeth were doing to me? I bet he knows. Or he wishes. And shit. Not the time.

“Yeah,” Poe went on. “Unless you count the times I tried to sing in public. One of them while not even being drunk. Or all the campy ways I’m able to step down from my fighter. Or their attempts at making me front their recruiting campaigns. You should see the posters. Hey. It _is_ completely ridiculous, but I like the idea of fighting Kylo Ren with idiotic jokes. I bet he wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

“Hey, wait,” said Finn. “This can’t work. It’s too dumb.”

The smile went down, making the bruised eyes and gaunt cheeks obvious again. Poe sighed. “Seems we’re left with only dumb things to try.”

/

Droids came and went.

One searched thoroughly Poe’s bed, clothes and body, took off anything sharp from his uniform. Found the belt, retrieved a knife from it. Kept the belt. Changed the sheets for an in-built, non-removable bed cover.

Another brought in food trays. Poe’s meat was already cut, the water was in a plastic bottle and the only utensil was a spoon.

“Fuck. You.” Said Poe. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll ask Finn to give me his fork?”

“Apologies, Commander Dameron,” said the droid. “I’ll stay here and watch until you’re both finished.”

“Fuck. You.” Said Finn.

BB-8 rolled from the door and tried to reach Poe. The other droid put himself in his way. “I can’t allow that, Commander Dameron. Your droid has got sharp implements and has been known to help you unwisely.”

“Fuck it all!” yelled Poe.

/

“NR-4, please?”

“Commander Dameron?”

“Am I allowed painkillers? The headache’s gnawing away at my sanity. What’s left of it.”

“Only mild ones, commander.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

/

“So,” said Poe, “how do we pass the time?”

“I don’t suppose exercise –”

“Finn, I’ll let you know that I do enjoy physical exercises. Yours. When I watch.”

Shit, thought Finn, and Poe was not even blushing.

“How’s your headache?”

“Evil.”

“Yeah, so exercising might not be the solution. Too bad. _I’_ d have loved to watch.”

“Really? But Rey?”

“What, Rey?”

“Nevermind. Headache’s doing horrible things to my ability to think.”

And _now_ Poe was blushing.

“Poe, would you like to try napping? I could stay awake beside you, on your cot. I promise I’ll wake you up if you look like you’re beginning to dream.”

The mask of fear that gripped Poe’s features was unmistakable but lasted only for the blink of an eye. It was fascinating, Finn thought, how many emotions could flicker on a man’s face in so short a moment. Gratefulness. Defeat. Hope. Shame. And something oddly tender, slightly wistful or sad or self-deprecating.

“That’s dangerous,” said Poe.

“Maybe that’s worth it,” answered Finn softly. “You need to recover some strength.”

“You don’t mind? It’s gonna be mighty uncomfortable with your back.”

“Tell you the truth, I find everything here _too_ comfortable, I’m not used to so much softness. We had these big dorms with thin mattresses on bunk beds, see. I’ve – I’ve watched over other people’s sleep in worse conditions.”

“You did that, helping people sleep, with the First Order? I’d have thought – did they let you build such bonds?”

Finn shivered. “Really not something you wanted them to know about. But Slip, he –“

“Slip?”

“He was in my squad. A Stormtrooper, FN-2003. Not very good at it, I’m afraid. Well, _he_ was afraid and made a lot of nightmares about it, to the point it disturbed the others. So I, well, I let myself drift a little closer to him at night. I held his hand, once. It helped.”

“What did he become? Did he defect, too?”

“He died. On Jakku. In my arms.”

“In your – oh.”

Was that jealously or guilt in Poe’s eyes? Guilt, decided Finn. It felt suddenly a little nauseating to remember that Poe had been there, blaster in hands.

“So,” Finn said. “Do you want to try?”

The wide, toothy grin was back. “Let’s do it.”

/

Poe had let go at once, gone out like a candle.

BB-8 rolled in and swerved around the droid that materialised to stop him.

“Come on,” said Finn softly. “He’s asleep. What harm could it do?”

BB-8 reached the cot and started a murmuring hum. Finn smiled. BB-8 tilted his head upwards and sideways, whistled once and went back to his humming.

Poe sighed in his sleep.

One would have thought he’d sleep like he behaved in life, expansive and bold, but the way he was lying actually reminded Finn of Slip. They both slept on their back, but hunched against any reassuring surface they could find, as if they were preparing to make their last stand against the world. So Poe’s head and shoulder were pressed against Finn’s thigh, who sat against the wall, his lower back wedged by Poe’s pillow. Poe’s arm, thrown across his eyes, made him tilt his head back and expose his neck. He looked terribly vulnerable.

The black curls spread on Finn’s leg were too close and too tempting for him to do anything else than pass his hand through. Soft, thick, longer than he’d thought when uncoiling between his fingers, unwashed. He let the tip of his fingers rest on Poe’s scalp.

The previous day, Finn had received his first massage and it had been a maelstrom of sensations that still made him raw. That let him struggling with desire and, deeper, that unwise temptation of attachment. Poe sleeping against him, all vulnerable and intimate and soft with his lips just slightly parted, was despite all he’d said another first and another maelstrom. He was _allowed_ to watch this man sleep. _Allowed_ to care. _Allowed_ to trace the line of his eyebrows with one finger, and then the curve of his strong nose. _Allowed_.

Poe was thankfully still against his thigh and under his hand, his breathing deep and regular. Not dreaming yet. Resting. Finn hoped that the bond General Organa had hinted at would be enough to let him sense when to wake Poe up. And that it wouldn’t be too soon.

He counted the minutes. Lost count at a quarter of an hour.

Something stirred and Finn felt it inside himself before noticing that Poe’s eyes were moving under his eyelids. That the breathing was a little faster, a little uneven. But he couldn’t find any sensation of urgency. No fear or pain. He felt – trees? A yellow-green light, soft, warm and filtered by many leaves. Hints of colourful birds. A child’s laugh.

Poe was dreaming, away from the First Order, from torture, from Kylo Ren. Dreaming his own dream.

Finn let him.

Then Poe convulsed and _hissed_. The pain and the emergency were there at once and Finn felt suddenly terrified that he wouldn’t be able to wake him.

“Poe!” he shouted. “Wake up!”

Poe went rigid between his arms and moaned. Didn’t open his eyes.

“Poe!” Finn said again, this time trying to reach inside himself – inside Poe. Finding the memory of that yellow-green light and that laugh. Pushing it back to Poe. “Poe.”

Poe gasped and woke up, letting out one half-sob, half sigh.

“BB-8. Finn.” He whispered. “Oh, Finn. Thank you! I dreamed. By the Force, I dreamed of Yavin!”

He laughed and Finn laughed with him. BB-8 materialised not one, but three methane torches.

/

The next days and nights felt like a trench war. Poe held. Finn helped. Rey came in, once or twice, but she felt more remote than the first time. Straining to reach. _It’s too much_ , she conveyed to them as the three of them were standing in a strangely pale and flickering Jakku sunset. _Everything Luke wants me to be. And this. It takes so much strength. And he says I must not make the same mistakes as himself_.

Every nighttime victory felt precarious. None was based on anything that could be replicated. They were blindly trying, flailing around with everything they could find. And yet, it did seem that silliness and the First Order didn’t mix well. It worked, for a small measure of the word.

“What was that thing you threw at Kylo Ren this time?” asked Finn, genuinely curious. He was beginning to put up quite a catalogue of Poe’s abilities to find himself in ridiculous situations. “I had the sensation of a big, round, red and beige oily dripping thing, and you seemed to be giving him instructions? And then I felt a wave of nausea and he disappeared.”

“This, my friend, was my very own recipe of the double cheese synthetic pizza. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Recipe of what?”

“Pizza? Culinary recipe, you know?” Poe’s expression flickered with that sort of rage/pity/apology that was coming up so often when Finn’s conditioning caused him to miss a clue. Went back to friendly and grinning. “Hum. That’s when you combine edible elements to make something supposedly more edible. And so you don’t feel too left out, this is the only recipe I’m able to put together. And it’s not pretty. I’ll argue that it’s nourishing but sometimes it feels like I’m the only one.”

“And you scared Kylo Ren away with something edible?”

“See, my pizza is really something else. Nearly entirely made of synthetic ingredients. The basic, disgusting kind. That green insta-bread powder for the dough. The neon-red “tomato”, mind the airquotes, paste. I’ll allow only one natural product, but what a product: blue herbal Yavin mustard, for the impossible-to-place-but-it-makes-me-nostalgic taste. And the cheese! Oh boy, two different kinds of synthetic cheese that you pile on everything like there’s no tomorrow, competing for that oily finish. It was my basic diet during my cadet years. I still can smell it.”

“But Ren?”

“He could always try to twist _that_ into something horrible. Well, more horrible. And who knew he was allergic to cheese?”

“Hey. Well done.”

“I bet he’ll have prepared against that the next time, though.”

“Yeah.”

/

The night had nearly been a disaster. Poe’s longing for flying had permeated through his dream, reaching Finn like a stabbing pain and, of course, giving Kylo Ren a weapon of choice. Defeat had only been avoided when Poe had begged Finn to wake up so he could shake him awake from the outside. And it had finally been BB-8 that had managed to pry Poe out with an electric jolt.

Now Poe had a burn on his arm from it and was shaking.

Then NR-4 entered the room and Poe was just a recovering patient waking up from a bad dream. He covered his arm, seemed to will the shaking away and even pasted on a convincing smile.

“So,” he said. “How do we pass the time?”

Finn played along and smiled. “Don’t suppose you wish to nap right now,” he said.

“Nah.”

“Exercise?”

“Not before breakfast.”

“Well then. I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, what’s that holovid you gave me when you visited me here the first time?”

“First time? Oh, when you woke up. You don’t know? I thought you did, I saw that sticker you’d rescued…”

“I liked the colours.”

“Oh. That’s the Blinking Underdogs. Music from the Outer Rim.”

“Music? I don’t see how – you can’t march on this, Poe.”

“March? Music’s not for – Oh.” That flickering on Poe’s features was there again.

“Yeah, well. I don’t know about recipes, let’s assume I don’t really know about music either, shall we?” grumbled Finn.

“Should have guessed – sorry. That’s not about. Well. Anyway, I should have realised the Blinking Underdogs can’t be a proper introduction to music. Can’t be a proper anything, in my opinion.”

“So, Resistance music is not made for marching?”

“Not just Resistance – music, everywhere, it’s made for everything, really. There are – there are lullabies, to fall asleep, you just ask BB-8.” – He blushed, to Finn’s everlasting enjoyment. “Things made for dancing, others for bonding, or for telling stories, or just for getting lost in them – Hum. What could I show you? Oh, I know. It’s one of his first, easier than others, you’ll see. It tells a story. BB-8, you still have that stack of David Jones vids?”

“David Jones? That’s a strange name.”

“Yeah, I know. He used to say he was an alien from another galaxy at a time.”

“But that’s not…”

“Just a story. His real name is Ziggy Stardust. He’s from the Core Worlds, you can still hear it in his accent. Well, listen. That’s a live version, I like it better than the studio one. I used to be pretty obsessed with this song for a while. And with quite a lot of others from him.”

At first Finn didn’t understand. The sound was weak, no fanfare, nothing to grip you in. The chords at the beginning felt simple, but there was the hint of dissonance and when you noticed it it became slightly unsettling. The singer was just that, one singer, standing with a string instrument in hand, one lonely voice that let you feel its uniqueness. You could hear where he breathed. There were abrupt stops and the rhythm seemed to stumble at times – but it was fascinating to realise how it fell back on the beat.

The story was silly. Something about a famous pilot, of course Poe would have loved it. Then Finn realised it was like the music. Simple. Easy. Just a little too open, a little crooked, not as happy as it should have been. Longing for freedom. And this fit into Poe’s character too, he realised.

“Well?” asked Poe when Finn remained silent after the vid had ended.

“I’ll – need to hear it again.”

Poe grinned crookedly. “There’s a follow-up, from later years. Turns out the pilot was an addict, huh.”

That second one was about ashes. The colours in the holovid were desaturated and overexposed and close to what Finn had been used to in the First Order. The feeling of dissociation that had hidden in the first song was more prominent there and it _spoke_ to him.

He listened raptly and realised only after it ended that he had Poe’s hand in his.

/

Finn was walking better. He’d be able to dump the crutches soon. At the moment, they were probably more of a psychological help than a physical one.

That meant he could get away more easily when the crowd of well-meaning friends, droids, psychologists and doctors of every denomination was piling thick in the room. Or when Poe’s near-despair went too stifling.

He knew he came back smelling of rain, of outside, of the sky, and what it did to Poe was only too obvious.

He was drenched this time and shedding his soggy jacket when he came in, preparing himself for Poe’s silent reproachful look, or for his faked indifference, or for a genuine brittle too-bright smile. But Poe was alone, crouched on his cot and the only thing that alerted Finn was the faint glint from the small knife in Poe’s hand.

“No!” He yelled. “Don’t!”

Poe raised up lost eyes.

“I tried,” he said. “I couldn’t do it. I tried to press this here” – he gestured to his wrist, were a very small cut seeped very little blood. “I just couldn’t. I – I just want to live, and it’s going to cost so many lives.”

“I want you to live, too,” said Finn hoarsely. “Where did you get this?”

“In the heel of my boot, I’d glued it in before Jakku. Neither the Stormtroopers nor the droids here found it. Sloppy work. But it’s useless anyway. I’m breaking down, Finn. Tonight it was only Rey that saved us.”

“And she was tired,” said Finn.

“I don’t know how she does it,” said Poe. “It feels so clear when she’s there, even tonight. She’s so, so centered. While I’ve lost so many bits of myself I’m even surprised there’s still something in me.”

“Is it linked to her Force use, you think?” asked Finn, trying desperately to sound hopeful. “Is this something we could learn, to better cling to ourselves? We could ask the General.”

“I won’t ask her anything. If I can convince her and that fucking psychologist I’m recovered, it could mean I can escape.”

“By ourselves, then?”

“I don’t know how to do it. Do you? Pava was the one to go into meditation before fights, not me.”

“Pava! She’d teach you?”

Poe looked absolutely disgusted. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sighed. Grimaced. “Why did it have to be Pava?”

“I’m going to ask her at once,” said Finn, raising up.

“Hey, wait! You’re sopping wet. And you look cold. You’re not completely recovered, Finn. You should be a little more careful.”

Finn chuckled. “Is that payback for me mother-henning you these days? Or are you so afraid of Pava? I’ll survive.”

“Oh, okay. You know where to find her? She’ll be at the fighters hangars at this time of the day. Second track to the left on the tarmac. If you’re lost, look for BB-8, he’s began supervising my T-70 repairs.”

“Okay. And give me that knife, Poe.”

“No.”

“Give it to me or I call a nurse.”

/

Finn was lost. Second to the left, huh? There was a cluster of at least six bunkers, all apparently full of similar-looking vessels. And the rain was falling even worse which meant that everyone was running with their head down and how could he guess which of the huddled, splashing, poncho-covered shape was Pava? And where was BB-8?

He chanced his way into a hangar where he thought he’d heard a tell-tale whistling. It was dark inside, mostly empty, nobody in but himself – and the small rolling droid he’d been looking for, currently holding a light to a dark sleek shape in the back of the tall room.

Poe’s black X-wing, Finn realised. All power shut down, coiled in there and radiating a kind of deadly, silent power.

“Stars,” whispered Finn, “she’s beautiful.”

And she was. No First Order fighter had that racy line, elegant, dangerous. The black, thought Finn, added to the aura. He wondered if it was Poe’s choice.

BB-8 came by and beeped softly. “You agree, don’t you,” said Finn. BB-8 tilted his head up to Finn and beeped abundantly, all kind of tools coming out and gesturing towards the ship. Finn chuckled. “Why don’t you show me?”

The dome head nodded once and the droid rolled forward, Finn in tow.

Closer, the X-Wing looked more real, not a legend but a ship of carbon fibre and metal, strong and lived in and battered. There were scratches on the black paint, more numerous around the cockpit. What must be a jet reactor was dismantled and propped up on wedges. The wings were open, which felt strange on a parked ship. One of them was charred a duller black and the tip even a little melted. “Shit,” said Finn. “It really was a close call, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” said Pava’s voice at the door. “And what are you doing here? Forbidden area.”

“Wait, I’m sorry!” said Finn. “I didn’t know! The door was open, I… BB-8 was showing me around.”

“What, after everything Dameron said about leaving his fighter alone? Do you know there’s no astromech closer and more faithful to his pilot? And he lets you in?”

Beep, said BB-8.

“I’m flattered, BB-8,” said Finn. He hobbled back to the door, nodded to Pava. “I got lost, actually. I was looking for you. We need you.”

“We?”

“Poe and I.”

“Oh. We. Dameron really likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, no, well, a little, I don’t know –”

“Oh, come on. I won’t bite you, nor him. He _likes_ you. And it’s good that you’re there with him. Someone to talk to. Is he getting mad yet?”

A little too close to home, and Finn shivered.

“You said he needs me?” Pava went on. “Did he hit his head as well? Oh, look,” she said, turning her face to the sky. “It’s stopped raining! A miracle.”

It was, thought Finn. The rarest of rarities, clouds were tearing open and a pale red sun in a pinkish sky was peeking through. People all around the hangars were stopping their activities, pushing back their hoods, smiling, talking animatedly and pointing to the rainbow that was forming.

There was only one, Finn noticed. A human that had been standing stoically in the rain in a drenched New Republic uniform, blaster in hand, as Finn had arrived in the area. She was still in the same position. Calm, relaxed, professional. At ease. Unmoving. Unsmiling. It felt familiar to Finn. A soldier’s stance.

It reminded him of how Poe had been unable to stand correctly at attention in front of that general, and suddenly he realised why everything felt so familiar. The woman was holding her blaster exactly as it had been drilled in Finn’s brain for his whole life. Her feet were exactly the correct width apart, the shoulders exactly slumped for maximum relaxation. A result of conditioning. He crossed the woman’s gaze, who at first looked blankly, then minutely started. Looked down. Clenched her jaw.

Finn looked around for a blaster. Crossed the woman’s gaze again. Her knuckles were white on her weapon, the muzzle moving slightly down to point on Finn’s stomach. Pava had a blaster on her hip, Finn realised, a small one.

“Traitor,” said the woman.

Finn let go of his crutches, moved sideways, pushed Pava down and took hold of her blaster in the same movement. It was, he thought, one of the perfect moments Poe was talking about. And he was certain he could feel the others somehow. Pava’s surprise and immediate alertness. The other’s contained rage and slight panic, her wish to kill. The crowd around felt like a startled buzz.

“Don’t kill her.” Pava told Finn.

It wasn’t a plea to a murderer, he knew at once. She was assessing the situation and she was right. The woman had to live, she had to talk, and Finn had to get proof.

The woman was aiming and Finn shot first, in the shoulder. The other’s blaster discharged on the ground. Finn finally felt the ache in his back, his legs going weak. He collapsed down.

“Her mouth,” he said. “Don’t let her close her mouth! Poison.”

Pava ran and stuffed an oily rag in the stunned Stormtrooper’s mouth.

Other people were converging. Someone wrenched the blaster from Finn’s hands, another set him back on his feet, none too gently.

“He’s all right,” said Pava, coming back to him while two other people were bending over the fallen woman. “That woman was aiming at him. She should be patched up and then taken for interrogation. Mind her teeth, there’s probably a poison capsule.” She handed Finn his crutches.

“Are you sure?” asked one of the men. “She called him traitor. Some people say this one used to be a Stormtrooper.”

Pava recovered her blaster. “I’m taking responsibility,” she said. “Someone should report to the General. I’m walking Finn back to the medbay. This way,” she grinned not too nicely, “I’ll get to know what I have that Dameron wants so much.”

“How did you know?” she asked as they were making their laborious way back.

“She stood like a Stormtrooper.”

“And you knew?”

“I was conditioned to it all my life. You lot don’t even know how to properly stand at ease.”

“Finn my boy, I think your life is about to become so, so busy. Not earlier than yesterday the General was wondering what we should do with you and how you stood with the Resistance. And now you’ve just proven how valuable you are. She’ll want to know _all_ about it.”

Shit, thought Finn. And just when Poe needed him so much.

“I still need to recover,” he said. “I want to stay in the medbay.”

“If the General says so, Finn.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all of that monster of a chapter! I really hope it didn't feel too long. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> The synthetic double cheese pizza is the SW version of [this one (in French) ](http://www.bouletcorp.com/2012/05/29/ma-pizza-metal/)
> 
> The musical scene wasn't a last moment add. I was originally going to use Nightlab as Finn's introduction to music because I can't resist a little meta, but then real life happened. You put your homages where you can!
> 
> Oh, and while I'm here, a little bit of self-advertisement, because gen things rarely get much in term of views. I sort of made General Leia fanart, because I really love her. [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5711899). Please tell me if you like?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst angst and then action. The last part of which is of the explicit kind, but probably not what you were waiting for (sorry).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning (again) for suicide ideation.

“They say I need to leave the medbay”, said Finn.

“Oh?” said Poe, fixing his gaze somewhere over Finn’s shoulder. “So you’re finally well enough? Congratulations, that’s great! Listen, I know you weren’t thrilled by the idea before we blew up Starkiller, but it’s not as if I’ll be using them right now, so if you wish you could use my quarters?”

Poe was still not smiling, not moving much, and Finn remembered that in spite of all his usual attitude he'd been in the military for half of his life and was perfectly able to put on a blank face when needed.

“They say what they’re going to ask me will take time and be tiring, so they prepared a room next to their section.”

“Uh? Wait. Who’re ‘they’?”

“Admiral Ackbar’s special section.”

“What the fuck! They’re going to _interrogate_ you? They’re moving you to their special rooms? After all you’ve done for the Resistance?”

So much for Poe’s blank face, thought Finn.

“I refused the move,” he said. “I’ll still be sleeping in the medbay.”

The sigh escaping Poe could have been a sob. “You’re staying here? They let you? Thank the Force.”

“I’m not their prisoner, Poe,” said Finn softly, because the idea that Poe saw a symmetry between Finn’s situation at the base and Poe’s former one in the Finalizer was too much to bear. “I’ll still be answering their questions, I’ve agreed to it. That I could tell a Stormtrooper by her stance gave them ideas. They want me to remember everything I ever did or saw since, well, forever. They say they could assess the wealth of the First Order through analysing what I say. Their resources, their routines, everything. What could disturb the discipline of a Stormtrooper platoon. What could trigger other defections. What we learn. What frightens us. How much leeway a conditioning really can give. How the chain of order works. What plans they favour when building things. Everything.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” said Finn, feeling very small.

Poe closed the gap between them in silence, moved to raise an arm over Finn’s neck but finally settled for a hand on his shoulder. He pressed gently there to get him to sit on his cot and settled beside him.

“They’re going to prod at your mind every way they know,” he said. “No torture or drugs and they’ll be nice about it but they’ll ask and ask and ask until they think there’s no question left. They’re good at questions. You’re going to take a plunge head first into your past, Finn, do you realise that?”

“So they told me,” said Finn. “But if it’s going to be so useful…”

Poe's thigh pressed against Finn’s, his arm went finally over Finn’s shoulder. “Finn,” he said, looking down in front of him, “you’re a courageous man.”

“I’ll still have breaks. Leaves, even. I’ll be here as often as I can.”

“Hey, buddy. You don’t have –”

“You still need to nap.”

“It’s not about me right now.”

Finn turned his head to Poe. The other was still looking ahead and down, sitting so very close. Finn noticed absentmindedly how the black hair curled around and over the ear. How even a clean-shaven Poe seemed to have a perpetual five o’clock shadow. He didn’t know where he was going when he finally said: “it’s very much about you, Poe.”

Poe rose abruptly and went to brace himself on the wall.

“Hey?” said Finn.

“I hate that,” growled Poe.

“Poe?”

“I said I hate that! I hate that I’m so weak! I don’t want your pity.”

“Poe! You’re not – “

“Shut the fuck up!” yelled Poe, crashing his fist in the monitoring box hanging nearby on the wall. “I hate this place! I hate what it does to me!” He looked at the wrecked box, at his bloodied fist. “Ouch.”

“Are you all-“

“Leave me. Please, Finn. Leave me alone.”

/

“So, how do we proceed?” asked Finn. They’d sat him at a table on a chair that was, for once, not _too_ comfortable. Put a mug of something herbal, warm and soothing in his hands. The room had windows and was high enough that the jagged clouds clinging to lower buildings made a breathtaking view.

“We’re not looking for specific intel at the moment,” said the non-human sitting beside him – Melakh, Mon Calamari, he’d introduced himself, and Finn’s well-honed mind had provided the data, native from Mon Cala, amphibious species, Rebels and then Resistance, dangerous, to be taken down at first opportunity – No.

The thing was, it would have been easier with a human. More familiar. With this guy (guy? He wasn’t even sure) he couldn’t parse the expressions, couldn’t feel completely at ease with the swift, jerky, swim-like movements. Couldn’t completely dispel the mistrust his conditioning had embedded in his mind.

“We’ll be trying to get a general picture first,” Melakh went on. His shoulders slumped lower, the skin crinkled around his large mouth – was he smiling? “What about talking about your childhood?”

“Childhood?” Childhoods happened to other people. Not Stormtroopers. “Cadet years, huh.”

“Early cadet years, then.”

“It’s… Very disjointed. Lots of things missing. They, they erased and rewrote a lot.”

“Rewrote?”

“Huh. Reconditioned? Hey, something I remember. Was very young, always struggled with proper talking. They called that proper human standard. They said I had an accent, I was so scared I was behind the others. Some that were behind, well, they disappeared. Some came back but not the same.”

“An accent? How old were you?”

“I don’t really know. I think I remember some in my squad were beginning to lose their milk teeth.”

“Squad?”

“Uh, yes? You know, my group of same-level cadets?”

“You don’t have any particular accent right now. Regular Outer Rim standard.”

“Yeah. They gave me these tracks, not holovids, just soundtracks, I spent days and days talking over them. They would scare you into not being on top, you know, the best, you were always watching the others so that they didn’t overcome you. Sometimes you tripped or fought your fellows, ‘t was encouraged. And you did it, so they saw you were strong. So you weren’t sent to recond.”

“Recond?”

“Reconditioning. And they’d commend you sometimes, give you some praise, a recompense, and after that they’d devise something that you’d fail anyway, because then it was recond and you had to learn to fear recond. Shit. I spent my, huh, childhood, as you say, being fucking afraid. Shit”

“Hey, Finn. Let’s keep to specifics. Or you’ll talk yourself into a panic.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s see. What did you eat? Something you particularly enjoyed?”

“Tell you what. I miss pink paste. Nines used to stockpile portions and exchange them for latrine duties. I never got enough of it.”

“What is it?”

“It is… It’s sweet, I guess. Very sweet, synthetic, euphoric, sort of comforting. We’d hide and eat Nines load in the dorm. I miss it.”

/

“Finn, you all right?” said Poe. “Shit, these sessions don’t do you any good. You’re sweating buckets. And you’re limping. Do you need your crutches? Finn? Hey, Finn. Come sit by here. Are you in pain?”

Finn shook his head and stumbled into Poe’s chair. Nothing hurt. Didn’t think so. He was just bone-deep exhausted and raw. Shaken to the point of nausea. Last time he’d felt like that, Phasma had been in front of him and he’d thought his life would end there.

He heard Poe step behind him, felt hands settle on his shoulders, jumped a little but didn’t shy away. For a while, the hands just stayed there, warming Finn’s skin through his shirt. Then Poe, still without a word, began to massage the tension out of his muscles, digging precisely in the nape of his neck and following lower with a deep pressure of his whole hands. And back up. Back down. And back, slow and firm. Finn heard himself exhale.

“Do you know I don’t remember anything of what I did between six and nine years old? Nothing,” he said, his voice so low he thought maybe Poe didn’t hear him. The massage went on, lighter, caressing touches. “Not one thing,” Finn went on, “except for a blaster. I remember shooting. Waking up and shooting. Not sleeping but shooting. Stumbling down but shooting. Shooting until the blaster felt like another limb and I didn’t know whether I was the marksman or the bolt or the target.” Poe’s hands went still. “But that can’t be right!” Finn shouted, swivelling on the chair and planting a desperate gaze into Poe’s. “They must have taught me things meanwhile! If only rules! I must have eaten, washed, must have taken my turn cleaning. There has to have been other cadets around, in my squad! People I should remember!”

“Is that so impossible,” said Poe softly, “that they’d put you at target practice for three years?”

“That’s completely possible. Likely. But I don’t remember one person from that time. Not one conversation, not even a word. Nothing. I must have done something bad for everything to be wiped out that way. Must have been sent to recond at some point.”

“Shit, Finn. You didn’t do anything bad, whatever it was. So maybe you did something they didn’t like. That’s not the same, huh?” Poe clenched his jaw but the look in his eyes wasn’t anger. It was, decided Finn, horror. “They’d wipe the memory of a nine years old kid,” he said, a blank affirmation, not a question.

Finn swallowed. “They’d do it all the time, a little. Conditioning. Erase and rewrite in your early years until they’d get you the way they wanted. Not so when you’re older, when you’re moulded to their requirements, then recond is a punishment. Something you get when you become deviant.” He smiled weakly. “I’d have gotten it bad if you hadn’t taken us out of the Finalizer.”

Poe smirked. “ _You_ got us out of that destroyer.” The smirk went down. “Those sadistic loons really use reconditioning as an education means? On _kids_? Fuck it, Finn! Is that what you’re talking about with Ackbar’s special people? That’s why you look so beaten up when you come back?”

“No, No! No, I can’t – I mean, it always revolves around it, with all the holes in my memory, shit, three years, they must have been on the brink of terminating me, with, with how I’m – how I was always afraid. But we haven’t come to it yet. I’m – it’s too personal. Frightening. They’re strangers.”

“But I’m not,” whispered Poe, who somehow had brought his forehead against Finn’s, crouching in front of him and his hands still on Finn’s shoulders. Finn felt some dam inside fissure.

“I – they’d get at you with sleeplessness. Drugs. Physical exhaustion, standing until you fell, or running. Blank steel walls and nothing else for days – months? Your handler would be the only one talking to you, over and over, and you’d repeat until your voice was hoarse and then you had no voice at all, and sometimes she’d be nice, and when you felt you’d be all right she’d crush you down, down, Poe, until you only wanted to please her, forgot everything that wasn’t her orders, her will, you wanted her to smile and talk to you and touch you and she… _Shit_.”

He was shaking. Shit, he was crying into Poe’s embrace.

“Hush, Finn. She’s not there anymore, whoever she is.”

“Phasma. That was Phasma, before she became a captain.”

“You got yourself out of there, Finn. You did it. Phasma lost. You won. Hush, buddy. You’re all right. You will be.”

/

Poe woke with a gasp – not from his nightmare but from the blankness of deep sleep. Finn was beside him, all shaven and clothed and nice. The clock on the wall was blinking an embarrassing late hour in the morning.

“What –” he said, scratching his chin and trying to piece together his memories of the night.

“You didn’t wake up when the nightmare ended,” said Finn. “I thought I’d let you sleep. You slumbered on for the whole morning. Did you dream? I think I felt a flash from Yavin at a point.”

Poe yawned. “If I did, I don’t remember. Stars, I needed that.”

“Gotta go now,” said Finn. “I’m late.”

“Finn.”

“Hmm?”

“You wore your Stormtrooper gear in the nightmare tonight.”

Finn grimaced. “All this reminiscing, it’s pulling me in. It’s hard to stop thinking in the evenings. I felt… There in front of Ren, it felt, it felt like it always was. He could have ordered me – oh, Force. But you made me remove my helmet in the dreamspace, you did, I’m sure. I – felt trapped in, I couldn’t…”

“Yeah.”

“You took the offensive for a while with that move, didn’t you? You felt – less scattered, I think. Pava’s lessons?”

“Oh, Pava. The least patient meditation teacher _ever_. She yells at me to control my breathing.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need? I mean, it’s closer to what you face with Ren than a flock of doves or the visualisation of a candle flame or some shit like that, uh?”

Poe couldn’t help the wave of nausea and dread at the mention of Kylo Ren. “He didn’t like that,” he said. “That I attacked. His response was brutal. It’s. Oh, Force, Finn, where’s the bucket?” He heaved, grimaced and breathed deeply. “Okay. I’m okay. Shit, it’s good that he doesn’t know how to measure his onslaughts. He was so happy with himself he didn’t realise I’d have spilled everything at that moment.”

“But you’re holding on.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Really gotta go, Poe.”

 _Unfair,_ thought Poe, and then he felt guilty. It was not as if Finn was going somewhere he’d enjoy, was it? “Take care,” he said, looking down.

Breakfast and shower and exercise – at least something he was glad to be doing away from Finn and his perfect body, so out of shape Poe knew he was himself – and how could he feel simultaneously so on the edge and so _bored_? He wanted to burst, he wanted to flee, and fuck but his need to fly was more violent and nearly more physical than his need for drugs – that, at least, was waning. He wanted to breathe and he wanted to run to the stars and he didn’t want to die - but some rational part of him was still inventorying everything that he could use should his resolve become strong enough: that electrical cord they’d forgotten to secure, the strip of curtain that seemed ready to fray, those shards of the hard plastic box he’d destroyed the other day, stored away in his boot. The glass beer bottle Wexley had forgotten. Finn’s fork that nobody had noticed he’d liberated away.

Was he really ready to die? He hoped he’d know when the time would come – and it _was_ only a question of time, that moment when his defences would become so frail Kylo Ren would but reach in and grab everything that was on display. Poe was a fighter pilot in a time of war. Anyone knew an old pilot was a rare thing, and every pilot was used to death sitting on their shoulder, just waiting for its moment. Ace pilots the same as any other. Death shouldn’t have scared him, it never did before.

But it did now.

Dying meant losing Finn. Poe wasn’t ready, not yet, maybe not ever, to face what it meant that his bond to Finn felt so central, so ineluctable, so evident. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t deny its strength. He didn’t want to lose Finn.

He sighed, made a conscious effort to relax, focused on his breathing as Pava was trying to teach him, acutely aware of how futile it was against Ren’s strength.

Sirens blared.

Poe jumped to the door, only to be blocked by NR-4 and an unknown security droid.

“I’m sorry, commander Dameron, said NR-4, but I have to require you to stay in this room.”

“Let me pass!”

“It is not allowed,” said the security droid.

“Fuck, it’s a pilot alarm! Someone’s in trouble up there! Come on, let me pass!” He tried to elbow his way past the massive metal shape.

“It is not allowed,” repeated the droid.

“NR-4, you’ve seen me, I’m better, I have to go, I can help. Tell him!”

“It’s tell her, commander Dameron, she’s a she for the moment. And you’re not allowed.”

“Shit. NR-4, not the moment to instruct me about droid gender subtleties, for fuck sake!” His next try at bypassing got him pinned against the wall.

“Okay. _Code seven two eight_. And let me pass.”

The droid released him. “General Organa and the security services are being informed of this at the moment, as per the protocol. Security units will be meeting you at the door. According to the procedures, I have to inform you that any breach to the law or any self-harm done during the course of code seven two eight will result in your detention in this wing under high level security measures. You can pass.”

Poe ran.

He was completely out of breath and absolutely disgusted about it when he reached the tarmac. Sirens were still howling on that short sequence that went directly to Poe’s hindbrain. He realised only when trying to buckle his harness on that he didn’t wear his flying suit.

“Code seven two eight, Poe? What do you think you’re doing?” The General looked worried and as out of breath as Poe.

“What’s going on?” Asked Poe. “What’s the emergency?”

He looked around, didn’t see many knowledgeable faces. Civilians, technicians. People were getting out of buildings, looking up, running to the hangars. BB-8 was rolling as fast as he could towards him.

Wexley finally emerged from the control tower, _un_ buckling his harness. Defeated. “Poe!” he shouted.

“What’s up, Snap? Who?”

“Pava. It’s Pava up there.” Anguish. Snap’s face was a picture in anguish and Poe had never seen him like that. “Orbiting.”

“She’s air-tight?”

“Yeah. But her X-wing belly’s shot. No atmosphere shield left. No landing jets. Ejection system jammed. She’ll circle around the planet until she’s got no fuel left and then we get another shooting star. Force. Nothing we can do.”

“Give me your comm, Snap.”

“What?”

“Give me your comm. BB-8, I know the jets are back on on my T-70, but how’s the wing?”

“Commander Dameron,” said the General in a dangerously calm voice, not completely covering BB-8’s burst of data. “Your fighter may be back in fighting shape but you’re definitely _not_. Your hands are still trembling. A code seven two eight is a serious thing. If you think you had it bad at the medbay before, you might think twice before making it worse. Or flying to your death.”

Poe wrenched Wexley’s comm from his hands.

“Pava? Dameron speaking. How’s it going up there?”

“What do you think, Commander?” came Pava’s pissed-up voice. “Pondering my options. Right now I’m thinking that flying into the sun might feel nicer than waiting for the fall. At least my deep space thrust is intact.”

“How much fuel left?”

“One hour, give or take a few minutes. But I’m not waiting that long to die.”

“Wait for me. I’m coming up to get you.”

“You’re mad, Dameron?”

“You can enter atmosphere if there’s someone else’s shield under you.”

“You _are_ mad.”

“I can do it.”

“And if you do. How do I get down? No landing jets, Poe.”

“You can glide the last meters. Chose a good swamp. The planet’s full of them.”

“You’ll carry me down? Nobody ever did that.”

“Do you want to live, Pava?”

“Fuck yes, I want to live. Do you want to die, Dameron?”

“Not right now. Jessika, listen to me. I _am_ coming up. Wait for me.”

“Poe. The Force be with us. If you kill us both I’ll hate you.”

“Fair enough. I’ll hate me too.”

Poe threw the comm back into Wexley’s hands, not even taking the time to shut it down. “BB-8,” he asked, turning towards the hangars. “Where’s my helmet? With the ship? No time for the gear.”

He felt someone grip his arm, hard, and pull until he had to turn. The General’s face was murderous. “What about consulting your superiors before going for suicidal moves, _Commander_?”

“General, Ma’am,” said Wexley unexpectedly. “He’s the only one who can try this. He’s giving Jess a chance. Please.”

“He’s going to kill himself.”

“I don’t think so, Ma’am.” Wexley’s eyes set onto Poe, scarily full of _belief_. “Hey, Poe, take my gear. You’ll look ridiculous in it but this thing saves lives.”

“Thanks, Snap.”

“You’ll stand the G, Poe?”

“You know me, buddy.”

Snap’s look told that he did know Poe, to the smallest details of his bluffing strategies. “Careful, huh?”

Poe nodded.

“Commander Dameron,” said the General. “Fix this on you. Seven two eight procedure.”

“A vitals monitor?”

“Self-harm gets you in the high security quarters in medbay.” She sighed. “Come back alive, Poe. I can’t go on losing my pilots.”

Poe ran to the hangar, trying not to trip on Snap’s flying suit legs. BB-8, that clever little droid, was already speeding there, was getting the T-70 out. And someone else was standing close to the door, looking slightly lost.

“Finn?”

“Melakh explained what’s happening,” said Finn. “He let me go. You’re going to fly alone?”

“BB-8’s with me.”

“Take care, huh? Come –” he stopped abruptly. “Do what you think is best, Poe. I –”

“Hey, Finn,” said Poe because he didn’t know what else to say. “You’ll be all right.”

And because he didn’t know if he himself would be, he smiled his most blinding smile and jumped up the side of his fighter. With style.

/

Contact, ignition and what if he’d sped up the take-off procedure a little? That was an emergency.

Fuck, he was up. Flying again. The rush of adrenaline and wild _joy_ was intoxicating. Better than any pill.

He could climb up the sky, and go on climbing. Further and further, through hyperspace, through systems, further even than the confines of the Galaxy. Get lost among the stars. Lead Kylo Ren into a wild chase. Save everyone. Pava would be lost, but that was only one life. Pava’s life against everyone’s at the base. How could it even balance? Do what you think is best, Finn had said.

Well, he wasn’t good at balancing. The reality of his worst friend’s life weighted too much, his duty to the base not enough. It was a weakness, he knew. Consequences, balance, the struggle of the light side against the dark – nothing heavy enough to be worth Jessika Pava’s life.

“Hey, girl,” he said in the comm. “I have you at one o’clock high. I’m gonna make a pass under you to check the wreckage.”

“Copy that.”

Pava’s fighter was a wreck. Heavy gun damage. It was a miracle that the cockpit was still airtight.

“Thank the Force it’s you in there,” he sent. “I wouldn’t do that move with many other pilots. Your belly’s wrecked smooth. Not much grip to get our fighters together. Do you think your landing braces are still functional?”

“You want me to open them is space? They’ll break.”

“They might. Will still make something to cling to.”

“Okay, trying. Shit. Short-circuit.”

“Fire?”

“No. Got it in control. Trying again.”

The braces deployed, half-way. Bent back, lost a few parts. Held. Okay, thought Poe. Time to get it right, no second try. He’d have to jam his fighter under Pava’s belly, tight enough that they didn’t part upon atmosphere entry, but preserving their wings so they’d get enough lift. And he’d have to disengage for landing.

“You’re good. Exchange vectors, now. Aligning.”

“Exchange vectors.”

“Okay, I’m coming in slow. Nice and gentle.”

“Ha. I’m betting half of the males at the base heard that from you at a time of another, Poe boy.”

“Hey, not half. I’ll let you know I like it the other way around, too.”

“Let’s not get into the specifics.”

“You began it. Okay. Brace yourself, Jess. Close your wings. BB-8, head down.”

Thrust and up and twist and the jolt was jarring. He looked out behind him. Not much to see. Twisted, molten metal above his head. What was left of the braces had lodged behind his wings, as he’d intended. The wings were functional. Quite a lot of red lights on his console but nothing of immediate concern.

“You’re all right down there?” came Pava’s voice.

BB-8 chirped affirmatively.

“Feeling a bit claustrophobic. Everything else’s okay. Let’s go down. On my engines.”

“Copy that.”

/

The atmosphere shield was whining under the charge. Poe could hear Pava’s forced breathing, knew his own was too shallow and fast. They were coming in too fast. That damn double-fighter pile was unwieldy as fuck. He could feel Pava minutely adjusting to his moves, felt thankful he could trust her with it. It was terminally strange to see two other pairs of wings shifting around.

His cockpit was creaking ominously. He began to hear the whistle of air seeping out. On the flying suit, Snap’s emergency panel began to beep and released the oxygen mask. Poe checked his instruments. They were only going down too fast, but at least there’d be a decent air density around soon.

Something had to be done about their speed. He switched a control. “Okay, BB-8, give me the rhythm, I’ll do the thrusting.” BB-8 began to beep, steady.

The fighters slowed down with a new jolt. Accelerated again. Slowed down. Temperature went up.

“Shit, Poe, what are you doing?”

“Deep space thrust.”

“Are you mad? In atmosphere? With so much oxygen?”

“They won’t burn if I stop them before critical point.”

“Which is what? Four seconds?”

“Give or take, BB-8 can plot that against speed and atmosphere density. Then stop, let cool, thrust again. Brace yourself.”

“Shit.”

“It’s working, Jess. We’re in for two hours of sweating and we’re done. How’s your fighter structure?”

“Still airtight.”

“Better than mine, then.”

“Fuck, disengage, Poe.”

“No. It’ll hold.”

“Madman.”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile so wide he was sure she could hear it. He hadn’t felt so alive for _months_.

/

Poe felt the sweat flowing in his eyes. He blinked, tried to concentrate and follow BB-8’s increasingly irregular beeps. He was sure his reflexes were as good as ever but he had to admit he was tiring much faster than before. And the temperature was nearly unbearable. A panel in his cockpit was vibrating. He knew he had some emergency sealant somewhere but letting go of the commands long enough was going to be a challenge.

At least the atmosphere was thick enough now that he could ditch the oxygen mask. Which meant that soon the deep space pulse would have to stop.

“Jess, we’ll be down in minutes. Got a favourite swamp?”

“The one north-twelve from the base is nice, not too many trees around. Transmitting the coordinates to you and the base.”

“Got them. Cutting off the deep space thrust now. Beware of the speed.”

The fighters dove down. Cockpit had a definite crack now. Poe gave an experimenting swerve to see how strongly the two ships held together. Nothing moved. Bad feeling.

“Shit, we’re jammed strong! BB-8, can you see what’s caught? Some part of the braces? Shit. Do you have a long enough tool to get at it?”

“Poe, what’s happening?”

“Calm down, Jess. BB-8’s having to cut us free.”

“We’re too low!”

“We’re still good.”

Something moved, pieces of metal flew away. Pava’s ship tilted and bumped on top of Poe’s.

“Okay, girl, that’s where we part. Had a good time?”

“Fuck you, Poe. Worst time of my life. And thank you.”

“Try to land alive, huh?”

“Sure. You too.”

He closed his wings. The downward tilt and the speed increased again. Now was the time to use the reverse thrust and pray for the best. He had to keep the engines at their strongest to swerve clear of Pava, but that was dangerous, fucking dangerous. He hoped no one would roast in the process.

He hit reverse. Deceleration slammed him against his harness. With a scream of metal on metal, Pava’s ship disengaged onwards and glided free. Poe’s ship, freed of so much extra weight, surged upwards, aided by Poe slamming the thrust back on so he’d climb well above Pava.

 _Will you stand the G, Poe?_ He heard again in his mind. The acceleration was brutal, and the answer, in the state he was, was no. He blacked out.

/

He woke up to BB-8 continuous, strident howl. A chilling wind blew in his face but didn’t help him breathe at all. The cockpit panel was gone, the ground much too far away.

Shit.

[Air mask!] beeped BB-8 [Copilot commands jammed!].

Poe realised he’d been hearing that for a while. Put the mask on. Checked the console. He’d never seen so much red flashing.

“Copy that, BB-8. We’re going down. Slowly.”

He pushed the joystick forward gingerly. Still responsive. The T-70 was leaking and creaking and vibrating worse than ever but everything seemed to answer.

As the base approached, he located Pava’s swamp. He could see her X-Wing in the middle, thankfully free of smoke. Various vehicles were already milling around.

“Poe Dameron to base,” he said. “Preparing for emergency landing. Structural damage but commands responsive. How’s Pava? Over.”

“Well done, Commander!” said the controller’s voice. “Track six is all yours. Blue Three is in one piece. Over.”

“Fuck me sideways, Poe!” said a second voice, overriding the first. Snap. “Got me scared, shooting up like that. You did it, Poe, you did it, my sweet fucking ace of a pilot! That was a move for the ages! The Dameron manoeuver!”

Poe let himself glide down. The adrenaline was still surging, intoxicating. Empowering. He whooped, moved his hands on the commands in preparation of – BB-8 beeped reproachfully.

“Have I already told you you remind me of Mom when you say that?” said Poe. “All right, no looping. Structure wouldn’t like it anyway. But heh, nothing wrong with a bit of a wingover, isn’t there?”

He whooped again, very aware of how he was bringing his ship close to its current limits – but no further.

Wingover, surge, dive, stabilise, and – land.

He was out of breath. Ridiculous.

“You didn’t follow the standard regulations upon take-off and landing,” said a security droid as Poe jumped down on the tarmac. “Your manoeuvers caused you to lose consciousness in one instance and brought you close to it in two. As per the procedure, I –“

“Code seven two nine,” said the General. “I’m overriding the procedure. The committee will still want to hear you, commander, but right now – well done, my boy, well done! Oh, and I don’t know what the committee will decide on the bigger picture, but I’m revoking the consignment order. You’re free to go, Poe. Medbay will still monitor you, but outings are okay. My order.”

Poe grinned, nodded. He felt – wobbly. Where was Finn? A crowd was beginning to assemble, but no Finn on the radar. Adrenaline was still rushing in Poe’s blood, making him raw, making him want, need – but no Finn.

Someone rushed to him, hugged him, shook him. “You did it, Poe, buddy! You did it! You’re the best. You’re the absolute fucking best. Stars, what a show!”

“Suhail?”

“Hi,” said Suhail with a wolfish grin. “Come here, Poe. I know you. You’ll -”

“Where’s Finn?”

“Who? Oh, the guy from medbay, the one… Still being interrogated, I think. They went to get him back one hour ago. Strange, don’t you think, that they’d interrogate him but still let him roam around like that?”

Poe felt his annoyance grow. “They’re not _interrogating_ him. He’s answering their questions willingly.”

“Oh? Well, then, he didn’t come back down to watch you land. _I_ did.” That wolfish grin, again, with that hint of lasciviousness Poe knew only too well. He felt absurdly betrayed by Finn’s absence.

“How’s Pava?” he asked the General.

“She’s well, except for the smell, I’m told. Perfect swamp landing, but she had to waddle through the mud to get to the shore. They’re still doing a med checkout on the site, she’ll be here in a couple of hours. How do you feel, Poe? Your hands are trembling again.”

“That’s the adrenaline rush, General.” He grinned. “Wow, that was _great_.”

“Pilots…” she sighed.

Suhail tugged at Poe’s arm. “You need to unwind, buddy. Come with me. Your Finn’s not here.”

Poe looked up to the shape of the cliff buildings. Finn was up there somewhere. He fancied he could feel his gaze from one of the windows, that a bit of the relief he felt was not his but Finn’s. But the clouds were closing on the cliffs and soon there were only shadows. He followed Suhail.

/

Shuail pushed him into an empty hangar. He laughed, throaty and triumphant.

“Just like old times, eh, Poe?”

Poe didn’t answer.

“Come on, buddy. I know what you need right now. _You_ know what you need.”

Suhail and Poe were of a height and they were so close that Poe remembered how he used to enjoy counting the freckles on Suhail’s nose. How _wicked_ Suhail’s eyes could look from under those pale lashes. As Suhail began to play with the buckles of the flying suit, he remembered how talented these fingers were, and this mouth.

Suhail closed the gap between them, raised an arm to bury his hand in Poe’s hair, his thumb playing with the shell of his ear, making Poe repress a shiver. He let his lips graze Poe’s. “Come on, Poe,” he whispered, hot breath wafting on Poe’s face and mouth, pale green eyes raising and planting their gaze boldly in Poe’s dark ones. “Come on, tell me what you need.” He pushed the harness down and began fingering the zipper.

What Poe needed was Finn, Finn here instead of Suhail right now. But Finn hadn’t come down. Finn fancied Rey, not Poe, and Finn had every right to live his own life unhindered by Poe’s infatuation. Suhail lowered the zipper a few centimetres, chuckled, low and seductive and nearly in Poe’s mouth, when he discovered Poe wore no shirt underneath. Slid his hand on Poe’s chest, resting his fingers a hairbreadth away from a nipple. Poe shivered again, this time without trying to hide it. The fingers were hot on his skin, the touch unbearably light, and he wanted _more_. He needed more, needed the press of hands and mouth and tongue and teeth on his body, needed strong arms to hold him and restrain him and catch him from falling, needed the pounding and the filling and the riding down from his adrenaline high. And Finn was not there, but Suhail was and he was fucking willing.

Suhail saw him reach his decision and his grin against Poe’s mouth became predatory. “Tell me,” he said and closed the kiss, his tongue only just licking at Poe’s upper lip.

Poe pushed him away to growl: “Need you to fuck me, Suhail. _Shit_ – Keep doing _that_. Right here.”

“Do what, Poe? _Tell me_.”

“The nipple – nnngh. Don’t stop.”

“And?”

“You know what, you fucking tease – aaah. Put your big cock in me, fill me. _Come on, pinch, I’m not made of sugar!_ Fuck! Give it to me, hard. Take me back up, make me come down. Need it.”

“Give me your mouth, Poe. You know I’m a fuckin good kisser. The best.”

“Proud, are we?”

“Oh, that’s so? I’m thinking I’m gonna give you a little reminder of _everything_ my mouth can do before I take you, hmmm?”

“Shit, Suhail, stop talking, _do it._ ”

And suddenly Poe felt himself being pushed against the wall, Snap’s flying suit being all but wrenched from his body, the prickly air around him only making him feel the heat and the want inside him more acutely.

“Mmmmh,” made Suhail’s mouth against his ear – another shiver, shit but he knew him too well. “You’re delicious, Poe. Wow. Quite a tent down there already, huh. How long has it been?”

“Stop. Talking. Ahhhh.” Suhail’s tongue and teeth were making wicked things to his ear, his neck, and going down slowly, so fucking agonisingly slowly to his pecs. “ _Bite_ , Suhail. Yesss. Like that.”

He needed more. Force he needed more, and Suhail would never come soon enough to his neglected, already leaking cock. He tried to push his hips forward, to grind against the other, tried to bring a hand over his length.

Suhail raised his head, the nipple he was working on feeling horribly cold and alone at once. Gripped Poe’s wrists hard, pushed them behind him. “Tut tut, Poe. Not allowed. ‘m in charge.”

And suddenly Poe had enough. Couldn’t stand the hold on his wrists. The too-slow tease. The fucking he needed and wasn’t coming. He let himself bear down on Suhail with all his weight, tore his hands free and caught the other’s belt, working at his fly. “Fucking hell, Suhail,” he growled, “I’m not in the mood for teasing. Suck me or give me that pounding but I can’t wait.”

Suhail’s pupils were so dilated his eyes looked dark. “All right,” he said hoarsely. “Gonna fuck you. How do you want it?”

“’m up to date with my shoots. You?”

“Yeah.”

“Got lube?”

“Take a guess. Yeah, sure. Preparation?”

Poe wanted it right now, fast and dirty and hard against the wall. But it _had_ been a long time. “Get at it,” he said. “But fast. Want you in me and _soon_.”

Suhail smiled a sinuous, ironical smile, crouched down in front of Poe, got a tube of lube out and coated his fingers, _slowly_. Poe groaned, divested himself of his briefs. “Come _on_ ,” he croaked. Then he hissed as Suhail bent and licked a trail all along his cock, at the same time as two fingers, at once, found his opening.

“Like that, big boy?” asked Suhail. “Fuck, I love your cock.” He plunged back down, engulfing most of Poe’s length, and down until everything was in and the tip was encased in the velvety tightness of his throat. Pulled back, resting his lips close and humming. “That’s it, Poe. Moan. Moan for me.” He blew on Poe’s wet, aching cock. “Could blow you up, uh? Bet you wouldn’t hold that long. But no. You _want_ that fucking. Tell me how much you want it, big boy.”

Poe was trying with all his might to impale himself on Suhail’s fingers, and didn’t care that it went too fast, that his muscles protested, that the stretch was becoming a burn. He needed it, opened his mouth to say it, tried to find again how words worked. “Nnnngh – yessss, like that. No! Stronger, aahhh. Put that third finger in, you fucker, or you cock. Fuck me right away. Can take it. Come on, get back up, need it as hard as you can. Against the wall. Now!”

Suhail rose up, pushed down his pants and briefs. His cock was impressive, and if Poe was honest with himself that was the thing he liked best in Suhail. The man took his time coating it with lube until Poe _moaned_ and his face must have been something else because suddenly Suhail growled, took Poe by the shoulders and made him turn, all but throwing him against the wall. Poe braced himself. “That’s it,” he said. “Now you get that fat cock in fast or I sit on you.”

Suhail sheathed himself to the hilt in one move. Poe cried out and tensed against the onslaught, feeling the sweat coat his skin at once. He breathed once, twice, made himself relax and open to that glorious feeling of being _filled_ , filled up so tight and complete that nothing else existed. His troubles, his pains, his fears, that big unquenchable thrumming in his blood, all the rest of his life were finally forced to take a backseat as he revelled in the feeling of that big, fat cock inside him, stretching him so impossibly wide. “Move,” he commanded.

“You’re sure? Stars, you’re so tight. So, so…” Suhail sounded out of breath. “I can go slower if you want, you-” Poe pushed back on his arms, tried to get Suhail to move. “Aaahhh, Poe, you greedy slut, you don’t know what you do to me, you –”

“ _Move_ ” hissed Poe.

And Suhail did, slammed himself back into Poe, and again, setting a wild pace. Poe braced and pushed back against the wall, loving, loving that tension and push of his whole body that was part resisting against the invasion and part abandoning himself to it. Loving the stretch and the burning and the pain mixed with the building pleasure.

Suhail curved an arm across Poe’s chest without breaking the rhythm, leaning flush against his back and burying his face in the nape of his neck. “You slut,” he said. “You gorgeous, incredible, greedy, glorious slut.” He bit Poe’s shoulder.

Poe yelled and arched his back, his head tilting back as far as the crook of Suhail’s neck. Tried to stand with his ass a little higher, his back still more curved, searching for the right, the perfect angle, as the punishing pace went on. Suhail realised what was going on and angled a bit differently, there, just there and _Yesss_ , he’d hit that sweet bundle of nerves inside him and the pleasure was building and building and he feared he’d black out again. His cock was bobbing and leaking and rock hard and he needed to grab himself, but there was no way he could let go of the wall and not crumble down.

“Touch me,” he begged. “Need your hand, fuck. So close. Not gonna last.”

Suhail’s spit-slicked hand was on him almost at once. The relief was so great he almost came on the spot, staggered on the edge. Suhail’s strong, hot, slick hand pumped him once, twice, thrice in time with even deeper thrusts of his big cock and Poe clenched around it and came in powerful spurts on the wall. Suhail molded himself even closer around Poe’s ass and back, his rhythm becoming even faster and erratic, and he came inside Poe with a high-pitched whine.

They stood entwined in the same position for a while, Poe’s shoulders and arms becoming increasingly strained. Then Suhail seemed to realise Poe’s discomfort and pivoted on the side, resting against the wall and pulling Poe in an embrace, still standing. He tilted his head and kissed Poe on the mouth, deep and maybe even tender. Poe felt opening to the kiss was the nice, polite thing to do, even though he was going down fast and didn’t feel in the mood.

“Like old times,” said Suhail, smiling. “I knew you’d need that, Poe. You always were so high strung after a touch and go mission like this one. Bet you can’t ask this of that Stormtrooper of yours, huh?”

Poe tensed and disengaged himself from Suhail’s arms. He shivered, realised he was stark naked while Suhail still wore his shirt and jacket with his pants on his ankles. Bent down to retrieve his underwear and Snap’s flying suit and harness, hoping he hadn’t permanently ruined it. Went to put them on.

“Finn isn’t a Stormtrooper,” he said. “Not anymore. And you can’t imagine the amount of courage he needed to deflect.”

Suhail looked surprised – maybe at Poe’s sudden cold tone.

“And he’s not mine,” Poe went on.

“He isn’t?” asked Suhail, looking genuinely taken aback. “I thought – you didn’t even fuck him? After all this time with him? Not once? Shit. He doesn’t like men?”

“Not your problem.” Poe sighed. “Listen, Suhail. I’m – I’m sorry. I won’t say that I regret what we just did, because it was fucking fantastic and I needed that, and, and I’m thankful you realised it, but. But this stops here. I’m – I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment, and it sort of feels you are, and I would only hurt you. Shit, I’m already using you.”

“You’re not looking for a relationship _with me_ , you mean,” said Suhail, looking slightly bitter.

“Not your problem, again. Finn’s out of bounds.”

“Here’s my answer. A Stormtrooper, Poe? Fuck.”

Both of them, it seemed, were surprised by Poe’s violent jerk. “He’s not –” he hissed, then stopped. “Don’t you ever listen to what I say, Suhail? Shit, I’m going. And, uh, thanks for the fuck. It was great.”

“Poe, wait!” said Suhail, but Poe was already at the door.

He stepped into the rain, walking slowly back to track six, letting himself get drenched, berating himself for letting BB-8 deal alone with his damaged ship. He ached all over and his ass was going to be a problem for the next days. Disgust at himself was welling up inside, and in spite of what he’d told Suhail he was beginning to regret what he’d done. He wanted Finn. Wanted him so much the need was beginning to feel physical. Yet he didn’t know how he’d be able to look him in the eye, which felt so fucking ridiculous about someone with whom he hadn’t even a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hum. Sorry? Poe isn't being very nice with Suhail, poor boy. What can I say? Not all relationships are about holding hands and eternal love being written in the stars...
> 
> I promise there's going to be a compare and contrast scene in not too long, though.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought I'd get to the compare and contrast scene with this chapter but then Poe's guilt (and mine? sorrysorrysorry) decided to spread and spread and colour this whole part.  
> Since I'm at over 10,000 words and I'm still not done I'm splitting it in two. Chapter nine shouldn't be too long to come, though, probably tomorrow.  
> But we're nearing a place where the plot is going to move a little faster. Finally! I couldn't wait.
> 
> Hope you'll like it and forgive me a little for what I wrote before, and thank you for all these thoughtful, incredible comments!

When Poe arrived on track six, his ship was still standing there under the torrential rain. Someone had thrown a tarp over the cracked cockpit but nothing else seemed to have been done. It wasn’t right, even if the time since his landing was probably shorter than he felt. The structure wasn’t sound and the hull was cracked and right now hundreds of fragile systems were exposed to the elements. Neglect, pure and simple.

The surge of anger he felt at that was short-lived, engulfed in a staggeringly powerful wave of shame. Yes, BB-8 should have dealt with the ship, but droids did their duty until they couldn’t, and if the ship was still there it meant BB-8 had met some trouble. Yes, there should have been someone else dealing with whatever BB-8 couldn’t do – Stars, he thought, of course, co-pilot commands jammed, wasn’t as if BB-8 could reach the pilot console. But everyone knew not to touch Poe Dameron’s fighter without his permission, and anyway that someone should have been Poe. Poe who had ran away as soon as he’d landed for a mindless fuck like some rutting animal, so completely oblivious of his most basic duties.

He walked to the ship and put his hands on her scarred, cracked hull. The surface was still warm, smoking slightly in the cold rain. He let the water pour down on his naked head and already drenched suit. Maybe if he stood like that long enough the rain could wash him of all that mess, all his aches and his sorrow and his shame.

BB-8 abseiled down from the astromech trap and landed at Poe’s feet. He launched into a tirade of data, adding line after line on the state of the cockpit beams, the transmission systems, the hull panels and the wings attachments, never stopping long enough to let Poe assess the situation or answer a particular point. That was passive-aggressive droid at its finest and Poe definitely deserved it.

He sighed. “Let’s get her inside, BB-8,” he only said.

BB-8 whistled interrogatively.

“No, I’m not angry, not at you. Of course not.”

BB-8 beeped.

“I’m all right.”

Beep.

“I’m okay, I tell you! Being a fucking moron never killed anyone. It’s not as if I never did adrenaline fucks before.”

Whistle-beep?

“Yeah, not feeling so good about it right now. Wonder why. Used to feel great afterwards. Not bleak and wrong like that. I used him, BB-8. Suhail. I keep doing it and he still comes back for more and _fuck it_!” Poe shivered. “He thought Finn and I were together, did you know that?”

BB-8’s long beep managed to sound scandalised.

“Oh. And where’s the line in your programming that makes you able to feel like that?”

“My stack of holovids? _Romance_ holovids? As if… Okay, okay, some of them are _quite_ cheesy. Guilty pleasure, yeah? If I’d known you – it’s not how real life works, BB-8. You know, I guess Suhail thought he had precedence, something like that. Or that Finn is too green to give me what I need, shit. And it’s not as if I’ve ever been monogamous before, huh?”

Poe grimaced and shook his head violently, as if trying to get rid of something, sending water drops everywhere. “Shit, then why am I feeling so guilty? Finn loves Rey and I’m free to go and – Force, BB-8, I _want_ Finn so much. And I keep calling to him in the nightmare, and he keeps calling to Rey. I’m just getting nowhere.”

BB-8 beeped and whistled animatedly, even extending out a few tools rather explicitly.

“Try my luck? Fuck no. I – I don’t want him like that. Not as a one-night stand. Finn deserves better than me, BB-8. Besides, I don’t even know if he gets what a one-night stand _is_. Have you seen how touch-starved he is? For all I know, they probably don’t allow Stormtroopers to fuck, huh.”

“What are you doing in the rain like that, Poe? You’re drenched.”

Poe rose up from his crouch and felt the smile light up. “Jess!”

She jumped into his arms, slapping him on the back. “We made it, Poe-boy. We made it!”

“We were great!” he said, laughing. “Fuck, an eight-wing double ship! That was something else, piloting that descent.” He pushed her at arm’s length. “Wow, the General was right, you stink! You’re all right? Unhurt?”

“Harness bruises, I can’t believe it but that’s all. The swamp stank but it was soft. Poe,” she said, a suspicious glint in her eyes. “You know I’m bad with thanks. So. Thank you, you son of a bitch. For saving my life. I – ask me anything. You can ask me anything, I’ll do it for you. I mean it. You could have died up there trying to get me down.”

“Pava. I know you’d have done the same for any of us, huh?”

“You know I wouldn’t. I’d never have thought it was even possible. You’re a fucking great pilot, Poe. The best.” She looked up behind Poe, shivered. “And we’re damn lucky that T-70 held, you madman. Kill me slowly with a spoon, those cracks! The whole structure got squashed. You’re going to have a brand new ship when you’re done with the repairs. Talking of which -” she looked back at Poe, her gaze becoming puzzled – worried, maybe? “Why is your ship still out in the rain? It’s not like you to – and yourself? What’s that suit?”

“It’s Snap’s. I was in the medbay when the alarm rang.”

“That’s right! How did you get out?”

“Code seven two eight.”

“Shit! That means an official eval.”

“Yeah. They can lock me up, well and good. But the General’s on my side, now.”

“Fuck, Dameron! After what you did today, the _whole base_ is on your side!” Her eyes landed on the blossoming bruise at the joint between neck and shoulder, where Suhail had bit him. “Hey. You look like shit. Really. And that’s not only the suit. You’re freezing. What happened?”

“Nothing. Just me being a true asshole. Quite literally.”

“Oh. Well. Let’s get that ship inside. You need to talk, but let’s do this in the hangar. There should be warm caf in there. Are you allowed caf?”

“See if I care.”

/

“So you fucked someone and you’re not happy about it.”

Poe looked blankly at Pava.

Pava touched her own neck. “Don’t look at me like that. It shows. Here. Didn’t use to bother you before, uh. What happened? Got contaminated by Captison? Found some god somewhere?”

“I didn’t even care for my ship.”

“Oh. That’s about your ship. Not about this mysterious partner not being Finn?”

“What do you know. Could have been Finn.”

“I know, because Finn was looking for you everywhere just now. Met him at your quarters, he’d been to the medbay and to your fighter before. Poor boy. He was rather upset he couldn’t find you.”

Poe felt himself blanch. He turned away from Pava, but not fast enough, he was sure, for her not to catch the self-deprecation and rage and shame on his features.

She chuckled softly. “Would never have thought I’d see it one day. You’re in love, Poe-boy.”

“I don’t do love, Pava. Pilots never do. They leave and don’t come back.”

BB-8, who had kept quiet until now, gave a long whistle.

“Shit, BB-8, I should never have given you these holovids. And that’s enough. Jess, I appreciate your concern but – but it’s complicated, see? Just don’t try to push.”

“Sure, Poe.”

“Where did you say Finn was? I – he wished me good luck just before take-off. I should find him.”

/

Finn looked up through the window. Poe’s black X-wing had long disappeared in the clouds but it was hard tearing himself from the view. Maybe – maybe, if he concentrated, he could feel a kind of joy, an elation that was not his but felt like Poe. He longed to be up with him. Couldn’t find it in himself to wish Poe to find a way to escape. Wanted him back.

“Finn?” said Melakh. “Do you think we can start again? I know it’s hard with all the excitement around the base today, but Poe Dameron won’t land before a couple of hours and you had begun telling me of conditioning. It’s – I’m sorry if I’m sounding insensitive, but it’s such an important topic, and I feel we should concentrate on it.”

“Poe Dameron will be down in a few hours, you say? Do you – he’s going to make it, you think?”

Finn was beginning to decipher Melakh’s expressions and he’d never seen him wear such an obvious air of enthusiasm. “Finn,” he said, “I understand that you’re new here and don’t know that much, but he’s Poe Dameron! Best pilot of the Resistance. Of course he’ll do it. Now, can we go back to First Order conditioning?”

Finn shivered. “Ask away,” he said, sitting back down.

/

Finn was doing everything he could to repress the trembling. He was drenched in cold sweat.

“I’m sorry,” said Melakh. “It’s probably better to get it all out in one go, don’t you think, Finn?”

“Yes,” said Finn.

“We were talking about this handler, Phasma, that’s her name?”

“Yes, sir,” said Finn.

“You said they’d starve you from all human presence, and that she’d be the only one you saw. It lasted, you said, until you’d be made to want to obey her. Please her?”

“Yes, sir,” said Finn.

“I’m – I’m sorry to ask, but – was there, hum, anything sexual involved? I mean, it’s been known to – and a male and a female of the same species…”

“No.”

“I’m sorry to insist, but are you sure, Finn? Could it be another hole in your memory?”

Finn wanted to be everywhere but here, in this soft pretty place where a soft nice polite guy was playing with his worst nightmares and never let go.

“I’m sure,” he said softly, and he really was. “It would have attached me to her. It would have been twisted and wrong but I’d have bonded to her and the First Order would have feared that. Anything personal – they hated it. Would have given Phasma too much power. Would have given me an identity. No,” he said, and fought the nausea. “She only taught me to obey.”

He looked away to the window, trying to find something, anything that wouldn’t be these soft cream walls and this smooth wooden table and this polite alien voice that were beginning to mingle in his mind with sterile steel surfaces and plastic furniture and a distorted metallic voice.

Down below by the hangars, vapour was rising from a sleek black ship cooling down in the rain. A crowd had gathered around it.

“Poe!” he exclaimed. “Poe’s back down! Let me – I’m going.”

His chair tumbled down behind him as he rose in haste.

“Wait! We’re not done.”

“You were at the window! Why didn’t you tell me he was landing? I _am_ done for today. Let me go!

/

Finn kept looking for Poe and felt frantic and curiously brokenhearted and increasingly dumb. He’d reached the ship when the crowd was already dissipating and when he’d asked about Poe a few people had snickered and none were able to point him in the right direction.

Poe’s emotions were still leaking in his brain, clearer than before, and together with the painful flashbacks of the First Order it made for an ugly mix. As Finn had run to medbay he’d felt _horny_ for a while, horny and raw and empty and it had horribly clashed with a vision of his own past, some mindless fuck with a faceless, helmeted comrade. And then, as he’d turned and asked and got lost and finally reached Poe’s quarters he’d felt a peak of fucking _pleasure_ , sharp and intense and mingled with disgust, until only disgust was left. But what Finn knew was definitely his and his only was the surge of red-hot jealously that rose over all of it.

Yet he kept looking for Poe, and not even Pava knew where he was.

And now he was lost. He’d tried to go back to the hangars but the housing quarters were a maze and that particular alley ended in a blind spot against the cliff.

What saved his life was probably the splash and the sloshing sound the bottle made. He turned around and the lasbeam only grazed his biceps instead of hitting him full in the chest. He staggered and caught himself in a crouching stance.

The guy in front of him had one boot in a puddle and didn’t even seem to realise it. If _he_ was a First Order spy then he was much better than that first one Finn had spotted. His hair was too long and plastered in thin strands to his skull, he swayed a little and looked like he’d never even heard about standing to attention for his whole life. Or in a decent fighting form. The bottle he held in his left hand was two-thirds empty. He was aiming unsteadily at Finn with a small lasgun.

“Stormtrooper,” said the man.

Finn uncoiled and raised both hands over his head. Took a tentative step forward. “Hey,” he said, “Hey! Who told you that? I’m not! I defected. I’m with the Resistance. What’s your problem? Hey, don’t shoot! I’m not armed.”

The man raised the lasgun to his mouth – shit, Finn was still too far, - realised he’d mixed his hands, aimed back at Finn and took a swig from his bottle. “Story goes,” he said, “you shot someone not so long ago.”

“ _She_ was the spy. She’s been taken for interrogation!” Finn said, his voice shrill. He walked another step. Stormtroopers weren’t the best at close combat. Strength in numbers and in fire power and all that, and Finn wasn’t even at the top of his squads in melee training. On the other side, the man was drunk. Unsteady. But with a weapon. And the air of someone who was decided to use it again. “ _She_ was a Stormtrooper!”

“Yeah, yeah. So you said. They say. Story goes, you’re poisoning Poe Dameron’s mind, you’re –”

“I – what? Fucking hell, man, you’re mad?”

“With, with your evil Force tics, uh, tricks. Used to be the best pilot we had, he did. Now he’s fainting during missions. They, they have security droids trailing after him!”

“Shit, if I could use the Force like that, do you think you’d still be standing?”

The man raised his weapon jerkily. “Don’t use that on me, Sith! Hey, Bert! Bert, I found him! Come quick!”

 _Shit,_ thought Finn. _Gotta try something now before there’s two of them_. He launched himself down at the man- dammit, he was still too far! – felt the heat of the wayward blast on his cheek, stopped with a wavering gun pointed at his stomach. Progress! He was closer.

“Imma kill you,” said the man. “Before you kill us all.”

“No! No no no, please,” said Finn, raising his hands again, and when the man followed the hands with his eyes high enough Finn threw a leg kick – good enough not to get him killed and enough to down the man. But not quite fast enough, as the man shot as he was falling and caught Finn along the ribs. _Not deep_ , thought Finn, _it’s not deep_. He wrenched the gun from the other’s hand and threw another kick on instinct. His boot connected with the other’s temple and the man didn’t move any more.

He heard hurried splashes, the sound of several pairs of boots running fast in the mud.

“Aarvin? Where are you?” shouted someone. “Shit! The Stormtrooper shot Aarvin!”

Like the first, this second man – Bert? – held a small gun in one hand and a bottle in the other. But unlike the first, he stood steady on his legs.

Finn eased himself in a combat stance, lasgun at the ready, breathing steadily. He felt moisture on his side but no pain, not yet. He willed himself to stillness.

He caught the man’s eye. Hate. Murder? Perhaps not. But who could say? If Finn did one move wrong. If he got the other scared.

He himself couldn’t shoot. These men were Resistance people, drunk and delusional and hateful but what would happen if he killed one of them? If he maimed, even only wounded one?

Bert raised his gun.

Finn felt the sweat add to the blood on his skin. Didn’t move. Didn’t raise the gun.

Other splashes told of someone approaching.

“What’s going on here?” barked a very familiar voice.

Bert’s phalanges went white on the gun. “Dameron,” he said.

“That’s Commander Dameron to you, man. Lower that gun. I said, lower that gun! You too, Finn. Drop it.”

The gun made a wet, soft sound as it fell into a patch of mud. Finn met Poe’s eyes, caught the glimpse of deep-seated guilt there before Commander Dameron stood in front of him, head naked and drenched, still in the too-large flying suit, and in spite of all of this looking commanding and charismatic, no trace left of the near-broken man of the nightmares. Bert towered above him and managed to look cowed.

“The Stormtrooper shot Aarvin,” whined Bert.

Poe raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Let’s have a look, shall we? Give me that gun. I’m not turning my back on an angry drunk with a weapon.”

Poe knelt among the puddles and checked Aarvin’s pulse. “Well, he’s alive, though he’s going to regret it in the morning if I judge by the smell. And he’s got no wound except for that interesting bruise. A boot, Finn?” Something strange passed through his eyes. “Hey. As you were, soldier. That’s not a trial.”

Finn realised he was standing to attention. Couldn’t help it. “He had a gun,” he said.

“And then _you_ had the gun, huh.”

“I didn’t shoot!”

“I don’t doubt it. You don’t miss when you shoot. Fucking hell, Finn! Is that blood?”

Finn looked down to where a few scarlet drops were dissolving in the nearest puddle. He brought a hand to his side, had a look there.

“Shit, fucking shit! I ruined your jacket!”

“You, _you,_ ruined that jacket? You, man,” he said, and Finn realised he’d never seen Poe look so cold and angry. “Bert Réaux, isn’t it? You’re a transports mechanic? I hope for your sake you weren’t there when this little showdown happened. Because that man here, Aarvin? He’s done. Done. Finn, let me see that.”

“It’s not deep. Oh, _shit_ , there’s a massive hole in the sleeve!”

“Finn, it’s pissing blood. Let me see. Hey, you. Pass me your shirt. Are you deaf? I said pass me your shirt. Rain’s not so cold. And I can’t tear strips out of Wexley’s suit, for fuck’s sake. Finn. We’re gonna press something over that side wound, to staunch the bleeding. You’re right, doesn’t look deep. Any broken ribs?”

“Don’t think so.”

“And the arm?”

“Just a burn.”

“Finn. I could get those two on trial. Easily. Even, well, in my present state, they’d believe me. And you. You’re the one with blaster wounds. And you were in the middle of the living quarters, lots of windows around. I bet we can find witnesses. Do you want to press charges?”

“To press what?”

“Oh. Fuck. It’s – you’re the victim, you can say whether they should face trial. Tell what happened, get them sentenced.”

“Sentenced? Oh. This man, Bert, he didn’t do anything at all. Just threatened me with his gun and called me Stormtrooper, but I had a weapon and his friend was face down in the mud. The other – called me Stormtrooper and Sith. Wanted to kill me. He shot without warning.”

Poe looked murderous. “He’s done. He’s fucking done.”

“I – Commander Dameron, sir?” Finn began.

Poe twitched at the formal address. The surprised-wounded-guilty glance he sent was for Finn’s eyes only but Finn could not, would not show intimacy in front of these two people who had accused him of poisoning Poe’s mind. They could not associate Poe with a man they thought a spy any more than the already did.

Poe cleared his throat. “Yes?” he asked.

“It’s, it’s not the first time people call me Stormtrooper or spy. I, obviously I frighten them? Well, ‘m not sure a trial would help with it. Sentencing a man, maybe two, who said what half the base is already thinking? Associating you with me?”

“It’s attempted murder, dammit!”

“A very lousy attempt, if I may say. He managed to miss an unarmed man thrice in an alley that’s hardly larger than a corridor. And he was totally thrashed.”

“And he underestimated you, huh? Finn. Are you telling me that this is happening a lot?”

“Well, not the shooting, obviously. But yeah, the name-calling and the spy thing, sure.”

“Where? Who? Fucking hell, Finn, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not so – I got used to it, huh. And not everyone does it. Most of the pilots are real nice. And Ackbar’s people. And the droids. Even Pava after that first talk where –”

“So she talked with you back then, uh? I was sure of it.”

“’m sorry, what?”

“Ah. Nothing. Shit, Finn, you got _used_ to people calling you Stormtrooper and spy and Sith? Here at the Resistance base? And you thought it was nothing, until, until they’re trying to kill you? Fuck. How can you even stand staying here? That’s not right! Fucking hell, not right at all!”

“I – you’re – it’s not as if I have a lot of other places to go. Stars, Poe. For the first time in my life, I have friends. Friends! Rey, as long as I’m here she knows where I am. And – and you.” Shit, thought Finn, so much for not letting his feelings show in front of strangers.

Poe looked torn. He smiled, a little.

“And,” Finn went on, “I really want the First Order to fall. Really.”

“Well, sure,” said Poe. “So you won’t press charges?”

“I – no.”

“But they might think you’re weak. They might try again.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I’ll still report them. Hear me, Réaux? There’s gonna be a damn report to General Organa. You might not stand trial but your life’s about to become very, very complicated. And give me that bottle, too.”

Poe snatched the bottle from Réaux’s hand and sniffed at it.

“Yavin moonshine, huh? Thought I recognised the smell. Not easy to find here, Bert. Actually, I know one man who can, besides me. You’re from the Core Worlds, aren’t you? From Plexis? How come you took a liking for Outer Rim stuff? _Stuff that’s so hard to get, unless you know the right people_?”

Réaux looked at his feet.

Finn got hit by a wave of anger and renewed shame. Poe’s feelings, leaking again. Tinged by a hint of fear. He glanced at Poe’s features, at lips pressed thin and contorted in a grimace of rage.

“I’ll look into it,” Poe said. “Don’t think one moment I could let it go. I’ll find who planted this in your fucking dumb head, Bert.”

Finn’s arm was beginning to make itself known. Correction, it was fucking burning. He rubbed at it, tried to pick off the tattered shirt clinging to the wound.

“Shit,” said Poe, “and I’m rambling while you need medical help. Him, too,” he added with a nod towards the slumped shape of Aarvin’s body. He got Wexley’s flightsuit comm out. “I’m calling the cavalry. I’d rather you wouldn’t walk so far and I’m not carrying that motherfucker.”

/

Finn was hooked up on painkillers, assured that his wounds were nothing, and feeling cotton-minded and slightly disconnected from everything.

“Poe,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“They said I was poisoning your mind. Well, Aarvin said. They might think I’m turning you. You should, you know, you shouldn’t associate with me so much. ‘s dangerous.”

“Finn, my friend,” said Poe. “I’m never letting you go.”

/

Finn woke up and his thoughts went instinctively back to how the night had been.

Routine, a weird twisted routine. Living the night on the edge of the most real of all nightmares, then waking up and acting as nothing of the night had ever happened. Not the terror, not the near-defeats, not the intimacy. Poe was getting incredibly good at it. The hand tremors disappeared as soon as anyone entered in the room, and he kept such a strong grip on his headaches that even in the dreamspace they rarely reached Finn anymore. But the heavy, purple bags under his eyes looked like they were here to stay.

The previous night had been good, though. Poe’s nightmare had been his and only his, no Kylo Ren in sight, and Finn had only gotten flashes of it. Drops of blood colouring a puddle red. A lover’s face melting into a masked monster. Endless running in the mud of maze-like alleys. But no paralysing terror. And nothing real.

Right now, adding to the weirdness was the fact that Poe had woken before Finn and was standing with his back to him in only his briefs and a grey tank top that had seen better days. Not a usual occurrence, Poe being curiously prudish around Finn, and fuck but he had an ass to damn a Jedi. Finn sat up in his bed, repressed the urge to scratch at the bandage on his side and took his time archiving in his memory every detail of the sight for further, private use. Poe had meaty thighs that balanced nicely his mouthwatering ass. Gracious, thin ankles, long feet matching his long fingers. Not much fat, not enough. He’d lost weight since Finn had first seen him and his spine and shoulder blades stood out a little too sharply. But the shoulders themselves were still large, strong and muscular, just as Finn had imagined them the first time he’d seen them clothed.

An old scar, long and jagged, curved around one calf. Two sets of round bruises marred both his upper thighs. Another, yellow-red and angry looking, was nearly glowing at the base of his neck. The jealously that had been lurking in the back of Finn’s mind since the day before came upfront in full force.

Poe was doing something involving a hand-held device, vapour and some clothes on a high narrow table.

Finn cleared his voice. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Poe started and turned, bringing a self-conscious hand to the bruise on his neck. “You awake?” he asked. “I thought you’re sleep off the meds longer. Your caf’s in the heater if you want it now.”

Finn nodded and stood up, rounding Poe.

“It’s a clothes iron, Finn. Really, never seen one before?”

Finn wasn’t having the best morning right now and didn’t feel like playing along. “Shit, Poe. I didn’t know what a pizza was, nor pressing charges, and no, I don’t know what a clothes iron is. I – fuck.”

Poe looked down. His free hand fluttered again to his neck, went back down. “Sorry,” he said.

Finn’s eyes couldn’t help fixing that bruise again. There were definitely teeth indents. Poe looked up and followed his gaze. Took a big gulp of air.

“That thing on my neck,” he said. Blushing. “Definitely something I’m not proud of. It’s – it might be the source of those two motherfuckers’ murderous delusions. If, if it really is, I’ll never forgive myself. Never forgive him.”

Finn nodded. He didn’t feel like bringing this further, and if Poe was asking for forgiveness he didn’t feel like granting it. He felt ill. More jealous than ever. _Possessive_.

After a while, Poe went back to his clothes iron. “Ironing,” he said to the empty air, “it’s for straightening your clothes so they look like you never work in them. Also, lowers the stale smell a notch when you take them out of storage. I hope.”

The Poe Finn knew had seemed to live in his definitely not straightened out flightsuit before medbay and had been an adept of casual pants and old frayed shirts since then.

“Isn’t this something the droids would do?” asked Finn. “I mean, NR-4 patched up the jacket last – shit, it’s probably beyond repair now.”

The expression that crossed Poe’s features was uninterpretable. “We can ask him? I mean NR-4. He likes you. And he said he thought of installing a leatherworking application, so it seems he’d be amenable to it? I mean, if you still want to keep that jacket.”

“Of course I do! It’s got value, I –” he paused. Met Poe’s eyes. “You gave it to me.”

Poe just smiled. Which made Finn realise how rare those smiles had become, and how much he’d missed them.

“As for that,” Poe said finally, gesturing at the elaborate clothes in front of him. “That’s my formal uniform, nothing of sentimental value. I’d feel bad asking a meddroid to do it for me. Not their job.”

“You own a formal uniform?” asked Finn.

“Seems I do. That’s for the seven two eight eval, later today. They don’t lose time with these kinds of things.”

“Is a seven two eight eval another thing I should know about?”

“Oh. Not particularly, I guess. It’s very rare. A code seven two eight allows anyone in containment, medical, jail, anything, to get out. Kind of a temporary free pass. But you’re monitored when you’re out, and they evaluate your actions and behaviour afterwards. Usually very stringently. You don’t get out just to have a smoke, or if you do then the consequences are painful.”

“Is that how you got out yesterday? So what will be the consequences?”

“Best they could do is reintegrate me to active service. After all, I showed them I still can fly and take the right decisions. Worse is decide I’m suicidal, mentally unstable or unable to follow the rules, and send me to the high security psych ward here to make an example. Alone.”

“But you saved Pava’s life!”

“I did. I also flew a damaged X-wing that hadn’t been okayed back, damaged it further, rushed the checkup during takeoff and did a few disputable manoeuvers, during one of which I blacked out.”

“Doesn’t seem like much, uh? Compared to saving someone’s life?”

“Yeah, I guess. We’ll see.”

“Is there – is there anything I can do?”

Poe smiled. “Huh. Hold my hand to comfort me while I wait?”

Finn did.

“Hey, I was joking! I still need to deal with that iron. No no no! Don’t – it feels nice.”

/

A seven two eight eval, Finn discovered, wasn’t a public procedure.

A few pilots had been allowed in, those, Finn guessed, who would testify. The rest were massed in the hall, a sea of orange and white from all squadrons, together with a crowd thick enough to overflow out in the drizzling rain. But not thick enough, noticed Finn, not to thin somewhat around him.

“Finn!” called a pilot – Captain Karé Kun, who had visited several times in the medbay. “Come and join us! No need to keep to yourself like that.”

Finn felt something bump his calves and realised it was BB-8 urging him forward to the pilots.

“How do you think it’s going?” asked Finn.

“Hard to tell. Captison’s presiding and I thought it was a very bad thing until it turned out it was because the General, I mean General Leia Organa, wanted to be able to testify. Jess too is testifying right now, that’s a very good thing they chose to finish with her. But that parade of med staff means they asked for a psych evaluation.”

“Is that bad?”

“Have you seen him, Finn, I mean, you’re always with him, you can’t have –” she stopped. “I forget, you didn’t know him before, before Jakku. He was – he’s – I mean, he’s been under a lot of stress for a lot of years, but he always seemed to just glide over it all, you know. I never saw him that bad before. Makes us scared. He – nobody else but him would have had the balls to do that move yesterday, and the piloting was incredible and it saved Jess, but one has to wonder, a bit, how much of it was him not caring at all for his own life.”

“Do you think they’d better keep him grounded?”

“What? Oh no, no. Not Poe, he needs to fly. More than any of us. I think that part of the problem right now _is_ that they grounded him. If they want him to get better, they have to allow him to pilot a ship, any kind. Give him local patrolling, recruits training, recon missions, anything. Else he’ll get mad in no time. Drug or fuck himself into oblivion.”

“Do they really want to help him?”

“The General, certainly. Some of the others… I’d say they want to preserve an asset, and they might think it’s better to keep him under wraps and away from harm – hey. They’re getting out.”

Poe got out first and the crowd hushed. He looked – how would he look, wondered Finn, for an outsider? Too pale and gaunt. Tired, certainly. Recovering. But all of this was wiped by that insubstantial quality, the hint of some hidden strength born from endurance and courage and a charisma that had never waned. His eyes still met others’, the smile still blossomed, open and genuine, with the enquiries and shouts of encouragements that rose everywhere. That formal uniform should have looked incongruous on him, but didn’t. He wore it with a kind of personal amusement, an irony that wasn’t depreciation. It didn’t change the way he walked, head held high and shoulders forward in the perpetual urge to go a little further on.

Poe spotted the group of pilots where Finn stood and rushed towards them.

“How did it go?” asked Karé Kun.

“Tell you what, I don’t know. Deliberations begin as soon as the witnesses are out. Hey, Pava! This way!”

Pava made a beeline for the group of pilots, General Organa in tow. Poe hugged Pava. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for your words.”

“Shut up,” she said. “What else could I have said?”

“Poe,” said General Organa.

“General, ma’am.”

“You can call me Leia, you know. In an occasion like that. You held well, my boy. I’m sorry I had to tell about that awful withdrawal period, when you – you had me really scared. But you’re recovering, Poe, you’re recovering, aren’t you?”

She looked into his eyes, searching. Poe nodded.

“I had to testify, you understand. I wanted to take sides. I knew they’d make a lot of your continuing nightmares and your screwed up sleeping patterns – if only you’d cooperated with Doctor Candonopsis, the battle would have been easier today, Poe. So I had to convince them that you did the right thing yesterday. Thought fast. Acted even faster, even though we weren’t precisely helping. If they don’t realise seven two eight was precisely created for occasions like that they’re even dumber than I think.”

“Yeah, well…” said Poe.

The General’s crooked grin was so much like an echo of Han that it hurt.

The door opened. Poe straightened up. Finn’s hand went instinctively to Poe’s, finally settled for hovering close. Poe shifted so that his arm was behind his back, caught the hovering hand and held. His fingers were cold. BB-8 rolled closer to Poe and whirred quietly.

Captison entered the hall like he ruled the place. Stood even straighter, adjusted the amplifying device on his collar.

“Commander Poe Dameron,” he said. “The committee has reached a decision.”

(You bet, said one anonymous voice in the pilot group.)

“For your heroic conduct yesterday, saving a comrade’s life, the Committee awards you a white bolt medal. It brings up your total to twenty-three, Commander, two from Wedge Antilles’s record. You’ll still have to work at it!” The small laugh he allowed himself had a muscle bulk out in Poe’s jaw.

“Concerning your use of code seven two eight, the Committee rules that it is receivable, and frees you from any strict containment.”

The crowd erupted. Poe crushed Finn’s hand and BB-8’s whooping whistle went on so shrill and so long that the pilots’ cheers turned to hysterical laughter.

Captison cleared his voice. “However,” he went on in the sudden hush. “The enquiry brought to light a lasting fragile mental state necessitating a continued medical monitoring. For this reason, the Committee confirms General Organa’s order to remain in the medical bay until further evaluation, outings allowed. Authorised areas during the day include stimulators, pilot’s quarters and hangars, but you are not cleared to fly or return to active service until the medical staff establishes a complete psychological and physical recovery.”

Poe’s hands dropped to his sides. The crowd remained silent.

“What?” said a lonely voice.

“He picks me out from orbit and lands my fucking wrecked ship unhurt and you don’t clear him to fly?” yelled Pava.

“Jess,” said Wexley. “Manners. You’re not helping.”

The whole hall began to buzz. “Dameron,” said someone. “Dameron.” Someone else picked up the name. “Dameron, Dameron, Dameron.” Another. And another.

It became a chant. Finn looked around. People were crying, others spoke the name with barely contained anger. Leia Organa had joined her voice to the choir, as had all pilots. But elsewhere in the room the situation wasn’t so clear-cut. Small groups of people huddled together, talking animatedly in low voices and sending suspicious glances, sometimes to Poe, and sometimes to Finn.

Poe raised his head. He nodded minutely to the Committee members, once. Then he turned and walked to the door. The crowd hushed as he left he place.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are.

Finn had thought Poe would need company. But Poe had gone directly to the simulators and it seemed he’d spend the rest of the day here. The story went he’d set himself to break every existing record and bets were already made for how long it would take him. The odds were on four hours.

Finn went to Melakh. Their sessions were giving him flashbacks to the point that he sometimes had trouble remembering where was here and now, but they also gave him value. And they brought him away from the suspicious glances and the slurs and the danger he represented to Poe.

At one moment Melakh had to stop him and order him to eat. He almost choked on the texture of non-synthetic food.

/

Finn came back to medbay as night was falling and had to stop at the threshold to take in the riot of colours in their wing. He’d hated the purple, orange and brown walls since the beginning, so different from what he’d been brought up in and so clashing they were. This – was different. As far removed as possible from the sterile black and white and bloody red of the First Order, but – soulful. Tactile. Woven fabrics with bands of pink and yellow and black and red and green and blue, saturated and yet heartwarming. Not one the same. Each one handmade.

“What’s that?” he said aloud.

“Oh,” said Poe from a new table and console where he seemed to be working. “I can take them off if you’d like. Things I had from Yavin. I was beginning to hate those wall colours, and since it seems I won’t reintegrate my quarters in the foreseeable future I decided to move them here. But I can imagine that’s not a style you’re used to.”

“No,” said Finn. “Anything would be better than those walls. Really, Poe, I like it!”

“Really?” said Poe, and his smile warmed Finn’s heart.

Poe turned back to his console and typed a fast sequence. Lists and holos of 3D algorithms sprouted all around him.

“You’re working on something?” asked Finn.

“Yeah. Reviewing BB-8’s programming. I did it myself, a lot of it. But that’s fucking hard, guessing where it puts him right now.”

“Uh? What? Puts him?”

“I always chose the most open programming I could find, so he could learn. But that means his feelings, decisions, who he is, they depend a lot on his experiences and his memory, and fuck me, it’s a maze in here. Do you know he’s become ridiculously romantic lately? Seems he zoned in on the kitschiest holovids I gave him.”

“Do you want to change something?”

“What? No, of course not! Unless he asks me or if we agree that’s something he needs as an astromech. But I – I need to figure if I can trust him.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“With what I’m about to do – that’s the point, I don’t know. Whether he’s going to help me, because my coding abilities aren’t going to be enough. And whether he’s going to report me. He did it once, even if obliquely. Basically, I have to guess at whether he’d be more loyal to me or to the hierarchy here.”

“You want to leave,” said Finn, because suddenly it was obvious. He had known it would come to this, even hoped, because it was better than the alternative, but now that they were there he felt gutted. Betrayed, maybe. And shocked. “You’d to this? Deserting? You really could?”

Poe twitched. “I – don’t want to think of it as deserting. Everyone’s going to believe I did and that’s hard. Fucking hell that’s hard. I – I know I’ll keep on fighting the First Order as strong as I can, as long as I’m still standing. But – not here, not with the Resistance, not if I’m such a danger to them. Not as long as they’re keeping me useless in that corner. And not while they’re trying to kill you. And slowly destroying you like that.”

He rose and took Finn by the arm, sat him on a chair. “You’re swaying on your feet. I can’t let it go on. You rescued me from that torture chamber. I. I only can do the same for you. Will you leave with me, Finn?”

The wave of relief that surged through Finn was so strong it overwhelmed him. Poe wasn’t leaving him behind. He wouldn’t have to grieve so radical an amputation. But.

“Rey,” he said aloud. “She needs me. I have to stay here for her. So she knows where I am.”

Poe sighed and looked only briefly away. “I thought you’d say that. But who will be Rey going back to if you go on like that? Fuck, maybe you don’t realise it, but you’re fraying at the edges. You keep mixing your tenses when you talk of the First Order. You say “we” when speaking of Stormtroopers –”

“– I’m not a Stormtrooper!”

“I know, Finn, I know. It’s just – they’re making you relive your past, again and again, they don’t help you build something new, and – I – Listen, Finn. We can leave and let Rey know. There are ways. Maybe when we’re away from here we get room enough to learn a bit more about the Force, or we can use the dreamspace…”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I – I have my idea, but – but that’s where I need BB-8, and I. Probably, we’ll need to move a lot. Lead Kylo Ren in a wild chase. I mean, that’s always been the main goal…”

“Basically, you want to cut yourself from everything and everyone you’ve ever known and believed in, in order to go nowhere, and you want me to go with you?”

“I – well, yeah. Mostly, that’s it. Finn. I know you’re not happy here. I see it. The way they look at you, treat you, it makes me want to punch something.”

“But it’s also the first place where I’ve been told I’m worth something, Poe. Your friends – the pilots, they like me. And I - I’ve been trying to learn to fit in. And this fight, their fight, it’s important, I see it now.”

“There are different ways to fight the First Order, Finn. We’ll find ours.”

“Poe. I’d hate – Let me think about it, okay? Unless - You’re not leaving right now, are you?” Finn nearly added please, nearly began to beg, and stopped himself in time.

“No, ‘course not. Escapes need planning, and. Finn. I fucking hate having to leave. Makes me ill. Especially if – well. It’s hard. But I don’t have that much time, huh. I let the General believe I’m recovering, but the truth is, I’m not. Nights are slowly draining me of – of everything.”

“Speaking of,” said Finn. “Ready for the next bout?”

“Who could?” He sighed. “You’re not so well yourself, friend. Maybe you could sleep elsewhere, so I don’t drag you in my mind tonight?”

Finn felt wounded. “It wouldn’t work,” he protested, and he was sure of it. If Poe didn’t call him, he’d fucking tear the stuff of his own dreams until they could connect.

“Yeah. Well. Let’s prep with Pava’s exercises and then to the battle we go. And who knows? Maybe I’ll dream of five-dimension algorithms instead? That fucking programming is killing me.”

/

Finn hated the nightmare but would never surrender his falling asleep routine. A thousand lightyears above Pava’s breathing exercises. He knew he had an advantage over Poe there. You didn’t sleep for your whole life in a dorm without learning to whack off stealthily.

The fantasy had evolved since his first attempt at involving an imaginary Poe. At first, it had been about making Poe do things. About placing himself in a position of power when everything else around him felt so uncertain. About getting the dynamics of the First Order out of his system.

Not so now. Now Poe felt precious. Now Finn knew the extent of Poe’s cracks behind his sunny façade and wanted to _protect_ him, now he also knew the extent of his strength. Now Finn realised how deep and true Poe’s concern and friendship could run. And now he couldn’t pry his mind off the sight of Poe’s skin, the outline of his ass and the firmness of his thighs, off his mobile long thin fingers and all the things he still didn’t know, the shape of his stomach and the maybe hair on his chest and the way he might moan or shout in the throes of pleasure.

Now Finn fantasised of doing things to Poe. The idea of kissing which would have been thought so dangerously weak in the First order now felt deeply erotic. He fantasised about his own lips on Poe’s sinuous ones, about his own tongue first grazing that fascinating line of Poe’s teeth, then touching the other’s tongue and moulding around it, and it was ridiculous that such a small thing would grip at his heart and his groin so much. He imagined himself exploring Poe’s whole body with his lips and tongue and teeth, how there’d be still a small roll of fat around his middle, just a hint of softness, how the skin would taste and how it would shiver under him.

That night the fantasy had become more urgent. Poe was leaving. Finn might decide to let him go and yet it tore his heart apart. Then he’d never get to touch the body he’d only glimpsed today – which stung even more knowing that Poe had given himself to some other man, another man who was, if Finn correctly connected the dots, probably none other than that Suhail that Finn already despised and whom Poe didn’t even particularly seem to like, or even, right now, seemed to hate.

Finn wanted Poe. Wanted Poe for himself and only himself. Wanted to touch him and dig his fingers in his thighs, crash his mouth against his and hear him moan in pleasure, wanted to make the marks on his body his, wanted to feel Poe’s muscles twitch and buckle and shiver and convulse and clamp around him, wanted to feel the sweat slick Poe’s skin and this skin against his wanted to grab at the hair and feel the rasp of his stubble on his lips and saw himself pound and pound this strong rounded supple gorgeous ass and wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss him as he came.

Finn came and let the aftershocks wrack him silently. On the other cot Poe moaned, soft and breathy, in his sleep. The intimacy made the longing in Finn’s heart even more acute.

He listened for a while to Poe’s regular, peaceful breathing – no nightmare yet – and finally fell asleep.

/

Finn found himself in his Stormtrooper gear. _Finn_. _I’m Finn_. Finn Finn Finn Finn, he chanted in his mind, scared he’d let it go. Afraid they’d feel this in him and wrench it off.

But they trusted him. They’d distinguished him somewhat because he was a guard, or an assistant maybe? Here in that torture room. Here with Poe. Anguish spread like an oily black terror in his heart.

Poe lay in restraints on the table. Bloodied. Gaunter, paler than he’d been all that time ago in a destroyer of the waking world. Unconscious.

An unconscious Poe meant that he wasn’t in the dream. _Finn_ had entered the nightmare first, and Kylo Ren wasn’t in it. Not yet. Could Finn keep it this way? Make this his own, manage not to drag Poe in it? Manage to make the dream about some other thing, his own experience with the First Order? Leave that hated room?

Poe stirred and Finn panicked. He had to do something. Get Poe back to unconsciousness. Knock him down? No. He never could. Around Finn other Stormtroopers were massing and turning their head towards the prisoner. Turned curious heads to Finn too, Finn who wasn’t moving the way he should, who gestured too much, who would single himself out again, but – could he let Poe get sucked in? Kylo Ren still wasn’t there – maybe Finn couldn’t summon him by himself? But even without Ren the nightmare was so terribly real, real enough that it seemed Poe would feel any pain they’d inflict him, and Finn had to do something, had to avoid thinking – but of course the train of thought made black-uniformed bare-headed medics appear. Those who were so skilled at bringing someone over the limit of the pain they could endure, just over the edge where one would talk but wouldn’t die.

One brought a device that crackled with static on Poe’s temple. Poe yelled and opened his eyes.

 _Nooooooo_! Howled Finn and he didn’t care anymore that he’d single himself out, that they’d know he wasn’t one of them, that they’d kill him, or worse. If he freed Poe right now, before Ren was here, if he made a hopeful dream out of the nightmare, if he gave Poe some way out, maybe they’d be stronger? He ran to the table and began to work frantically at Poe’s wrists.

Poe looked at him with huge, drowning eyes. The white showed. He breathed fast and shallow, turned his head left and right as if searching for an escape. Then the eyes unfocused, the brow relaxed minutely and the breathing went deeper and slower. “Finn?” said Poe. “Finn. Remove that helmet. Don’t be like them.”

Finn exhaled and let himself calm down, as much as he could. Breathed again, brought up arms that felt like lead and finally managed to take off the helmet. Poe’s relieved, startled, delighted smile brought Finn back to that first meeting on the waking world Finalizer.

“My my my,” said the helmet-distorted voice they only knew too well. “Here comes the pilot’s Stormtrooper in full light. You’ve been lurking in the shadows of Dameron’s dream for so long, I was beginning to become curious.”

“No!” yelled Poe.

“What, pilot. Do you hope to keep getting all the attention? I’m afraid you’ve built such a bond with that trooper this became ineluctable. You’re like a bridge, Dameron. Bound to me and bonded to him. FN-2187, isn’t it?”

“Finn,” said Finn, and he tried to cling to the name as strong as he could.

“No!” said Poe again, and Finn felt the link connecting him to Poe flicker and dim and rebound and grow back. “No!”

“You’re weak, pilot,” said Ren. “Attachments like that are so weak. Trust, attraction, love – you have to tear them apart to become strong. See it? You can’t even break your bond when you need it.”

Ren turned back to Finn. “Shall I look into your mind, too? Do you have anything of interest in here? Ha. I’m afraid it’s going to feel only too familiar. Boring. We _made_ your mind, trooper. Nothing of yours in there, only what we needed you to be. It’s so _easy_.”

Finn had witnessed Poe’s mind being invaded. Had probably felt a bit of what it did to Poe. But it couldn’t compare to what happened to him now, that unstoppable hand that froze him cold and unmoving, that dimmed every emotion and pried away all the laughter and taste and colours he’d stored in his memories in the last month. The pain was as burning and acute and blinding as a thousand suns and the fear was as cold as the emptiness between the stars.

“Finn,” said a small weak voice in a corner of his mind. Like a dim, soft light. Just warm enough. He clung to it.

“Oh,” said Ren. “How sweet. Let’s see who’s got the best grip on your mind, trooper. I’ll show you. You’re afraid. You’ve been programmed to fear. And to obey. Put on that helmet, FN-2187.”

The cold hand in Finn’s mind _squeezed_. Flashes of the cold walls and emptiness and exhaustion and begging and howls of recond invaded his mind and he screamed. “Put on that helmet, FN-2187,” repeated the voice in his mind.

What came from Poe’s presence wasn’t even a name. It was only a shiver in Finn’s mind, tenuous and fragile and coming from the core of Poe’s being. A starry sky, a yellow sun peeking out of a planet in a bright crescent. A tiny flicker of peace and wonder.

“I’m Finn,” said Finn. He shook with fear, his body, lying so far away on his cot in medbay must shake so hard he probably had meddroids all around him at the moment. But, under the shadow of that helmeted and caped shape that towered above him even more that it had in the waking life, he held. Kept his face bare and his name intact.

The wave of Ren’s anger nearly felled him. “You’re defective,” Ren growled. “So defective. Love. Care. How did you ever keep that with you? You’re like –” disgust leaked and seeped all around him, making Finn want to puke. “You’re like the dog.”

 _Dog_? The thought emanated from Poe, together with some irritation at the comparison, but also with not only a little irony. Finn saw it. A reference to a dog felt so incongruously human from the would-be Sith in front of them. An opening.

Ren caught the bait. “Yes, a dog. A throwback. Disgusting. We – I mean, Solo and Organa had rescued him from his breeder. He should have been an attack dog, had the best pedigree ever, should have been a vicious monster and a powerful one – like you, FN-2187. And he _was_ powerful, big, scary, muscular. Moved well. So the breeder couldn’t bring himself to terminate him. _Like you_ , FN-2187. The Dark Side knows _we should have terminated you_!” Ren’s presence in Finn’s mind was now howling and barely containing its rage.

Ren felt it. “I can control myself now,” he said. “My master wills it. So I’ll tell you. All that dog did was playful barking and begging for treats and bringing back toys and licking people. The only way he could have downed an attacker would have been if he could lick them to death.”

“Oh,” said Poe, and Finn could feel the fear in him and the courage behind it. “I bet that dog loved children. Did he lick you, too? Did he follow you everywhere around?”

“That dog was a nuisance! Useless, unless you just wanted to impress people. I tried once to induce him to attack. Yeah, I was good with the Force even then, Poe Dameron, though not many realised it. I tried to make him attack Chewbacca. I thought it had a nice symmetry.”

Poe managed a chuckle. “Wrong move, Ben, wrong move.”

“ _Shut up_ , pilot.” Finn felt a ripple in the dream and Poe yelled. Kylo Ren went on. “The point is, that dog didn’t do anything. Only howled to death and had an epilepsy attack. You’re that dog, eighty-seven. Scared of killing. Blindly faithful to any hand that pets you. Flawed. Pathetic. But you had such a pedigree! Such a line from your father. You should have been powerful. Maybe strong with the Force. We couldn’t let such an occasion pass by! Even when we found how long your mother had managed to hide you. You were already talking when we got you. _We should have terminated you on the spot_.”

Finn’s head was reeling. A father, Ren had said. A mother that had loved him, protected him, even for a short while, against monsters. A _past_ , of his own.

Ren laughed and it was chilling. “Yes, _Finn_ , a past. Feel how weak it makes you, now, that you bind yourself to the idea of other people? That we can find and cage and torture for what you did? You think it gives you value. You think it makes you stronger. But it only opens a way deeper into your heart, so that I can tear you apart!”

With that, Finn felt pain rush into his head, a maelstrom of red-hot blinding horror that obliterated every feeling and dug, dug even deeper than he thought possible. Memories he didn’t even know he kept emerged, tatters of a lullaby, large black eyes and a tender mouth opening in a smile. He screamed.

Inside Finn, Poe’s presence stirred. _The memory of a mother_ , it conveyed, _never makes you weak._

Ren’s onslaught faltered for the time of a heartbeat.

From the torture table, Poe grunted in pain but kept on. “You are the weak one, Ben,” he said, “if you can’t stand the idea of a loving father or a loving mother. Han. Leia. She longs for you. You’ve killed her only love and she should wish to hunt you everywhere and exterminate you but she cares for you instead. How does it feel, Ben, that your mother still loves you?”

Kylo Ren’s howl of rage and pain should have felled Finn but didn’t. It was, he realised, because Ren had directed his fury at Poe, who writhed and whimpered in his restraints.

Ren breathed heavily, the sound amplified by the helmet device, the terrifying echo of someone else.

“I see you, Dameron,” he said. “You think yourself so clever, deflecting my attacks with your poor little tricks. Cheese. A dog. A mother. Ha. So pathetic. Not even able to use that smattering of the Force you seem to have. Look at me! _I_ am strong with the Force. And I have my passion and my rage, and my hate, and I know now how to control and wield them. Behold! I am strong! Why spend my time on your pathetic little love when I can _crush_ you. Watch. And you too, eighty-seven, watch so you can tell them later. I’ll tear everything, everything from your mind, pilot, and then I’ll destroy you. I’ll leave an empty shell they can cry on and care for but it’ll be all broken and empty inside. _Watch_.”

“No,” said Poe, “no!” Finn could feel no defiance from him now, no remnant of his usual cheekiness. Only mind-numbing terror.

“Rey!” called Finn, “Rey! We’re not strong enough. Poe’s losing. Rey, please, Rey, help!”

Poe’s scream went on and on, never stopping, mingling with Ren’s laughter.

Rey was suddenly with Finn, bringing with her the sound of waves and the smell of the ocean. Finn felt a measure of rest – but a measure only, and the steel walls and the scream remained as real as ever.

“Force,” said Rey. “Little Ben’s so strong now. How couldn’t I see it? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were managing to contain him.” Finn felt the fear in his friend, couldn’t contain his panic. “I could have done something before,” she went on. “Maybe called Luke, though I’m not sure he’d have thought it worth revealing himself – now,” she said, her presence curiously waning, “I can’t do it. Finn, the bond I have with you isn’t strong enough. It was hard entering the dream.”

“Poe,” said Finn. “Can’t you reach him? He needs help!”

“I can’t,” said Rey. “I have no grip on his mind. But you have. Help me, Finn. Reach to him. I’ll try to follow.”

Finn threw himself in the maelstrom of pain and confusion that was Poe’s mind. He felt something, deep inside, something green and blue and yellow, something softly glowing that echoed the hangings from Yavin that was still Poe and, miraculously, was still intact. It was waning, though, shivering and flickering under Ren’s assaults.

“I’ve got him,” said Rey. “I think I’ve got him. Poe! Poe, this is what you are, this is you, not all these other things! The pain’s outside you.”

 _Rey,_ Poe conveyed, so faint. _I can’t hold on. He’s too close. He’s getting what he wants_.

“Hold on!” Rey shouted. “Poe, you know how to breathe, you know how you find your centre. Breathe! Find who you are. You love, Poe, you’re loved, find this! Hold!”

 _He’s following me, I can’t not think, he’ll know where I am_ , whispered Poe’s presence, so, so far away. _He’s about to-_

Then Finn felt a ripple of something, a tenuous but steady resolve. _Yes_ , said Poe’s weak voice, _this is my breath, this is my heartbeat. I know what to do. Thank you, Rey. Finn…_

Finn felt a wave crash against him, a wave of tenderness and longing and something else, something deep and all-encompassing he couldn’t place, and then apology. And then – nothing.

Kylo Ren screamed in frustration.

The torture table in the centre of the room was empty. And the beat that had rhythmed Finn’s nights, and that had hovered so close during waking time, Poe’s heartbeat, was no more.

“Wake up, Finn!” yelled Rey. “Wake up! Save him!”

/

Finn woke up like he’d been thrown out of the nightmare. He jumped out of his cot and rushed to Poe’s.

Poe had pushed away the bedding and lay sprawled on his back, his chest still. Finn checked at his neck. No pulse, and no functioning monitoring box that could have alerted the droids.

“Cardiac arrest!” yelled Finn, beginning CPR at the same time. “Come quick!”

He felt more than heard the rush of many feet, some of flesh and some of metal.

“We’ve got him!” said a meddroid. “You can stop.”

Finn relented his place at Poe’s side and felt NR4 touch his arm. “I’ll stay with you,” the droid said. “You can watch. How long?”

“I- I don’t know,” said Finn. “I felt it in my sleep. I hope, I really hope under one minute.”

An alien medic, his tentacles vibrating slowly, was pushing something in Poe’s arm with a syringe. A meddroid, eerily similar to NR4, held a bag and mask over his face.

It was still night, noticed Finn as the massage and the assisted breathing went on silently. But time was passing. Poe’s brain was –

Someone beeped a short sentence in binary. “He says they have a shockable rhythm, thank the Force,” said NR4. Poe’s chest jumped as they applied the defibrillator.

More binary, another shock, another jump of Poe’s chest. “Please oh please oh please oh please please please,” Finn began to chant to nobody in particular.

Defibrillator, shock and jump. And a long string of binary.

“Oh by the heavens,” said NR4. “They did it!”

“We’ve got spontaneous circulation,” said the alien medic. “And he’s breathing by himself.”

“Poe!” shouted Finn, feeling suddenly light-headed.

“Sit down,” said NR4, pushing him forcefully in a chair.

Poe’s eyelids fluttered and opened. He seemed to try to raise himself on one arm, finally settled for just turning his head around, eyes searching. He finally zeroed in on Finn.

“Finn,” he murmured.

“Fucking hell, Poe,” said Finn.

“I’m sorry,” Poe croaked. “There was nothing else I could do.”

“You’re alive,” said Finn. “Rest.”

/

At some time in the morning General Leia Organa had joined Finn to watch Poe sleep.

“His heart is in good condition,” the General finally said. “He woke up by himself and the drugs are working well” – she gestured to the drip connected to Poe’s arm. “No need for an induced coma and cooling therapy.”

“Thank the stars,” said Finn. “Yeah, they told me. He’s just sleeping. There should be no sequels. No risk of brain damage, though he’ll probably feel tired and dizzy for a while.”

“You’ve been watching him since the small hours of the morning. Do you want me to relay you so that you can get some rest?”

“What? Oh, no. No. I’m fine. And he – he needs me close. General, ma’am, I need to be here in case he dreams. To know if he needs to wake up. You – I know you’re Force sensitive, but –”

“But I don’t share that bond you have with him. Well. Let’s use the time to talk, then. I have one question. If he was healthy, why did his heart stop in the first place?”

Finn hesitated. Now was the time, maybe, to finally tell her everything, to try again to get her to understand the danger. But it hadn’t worked the first time, and had actually made things worse. Poe needed more than ever to escape, and – who was Finn to decide for his friend?

“I don’t know,” he said. “I felt his heart stop in my sleep. I’m so relieved I seem to have managed to wake up at once to raise alarm.”

“And perform CPR.”

“And perform CPR.”

“And so you confirm you’re bonded that closely to him,” she said, looking pensive, even a little suspicious. “Is that the only thing you remember?”

“I – there was probably something in the nightmare. I’m afraid I don’t remember them as Poe does.”

“The nightmares. You know, at night I sense you both use the Force. It seems your bond gets stronger and closer everytime. Finn, I let you sleep at medbay even when Ackbar wished you to join their quarters, because I thought this bond would help Poe with his nightmares. Since Candonopsis can’t.”

“Oh?”

“But _someone_ stopped Poe’s heart last night. The medics don’t understand how it could have happened, and they know what they’re talking about with all that monitoring they did. No arrhythmia, nothing. No sequels from his drug use. Someone did it, and I’m willing to bet it happened during the nightmare. And you were there.”

Finn felt a cold fear grip at his heart. “Am I under suspicion?”

“Do you think you should?”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Then who did?”

Finn looked down.

“Are you going to lock me away? From him?”

“No. No, I’m not going to. Anyway, even if I thought you did it, what good would it do to remove you a few barracks away? The Force bond would still be there. The only solution would be to send you far enough into exile, and we’d be mad if we let someone so dangerous go away, or kill you, and we don’t just execute people here.”

She bent closer, put a hand under his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. Searched.

“No, Finn,” she said softly. “I choose to believe you didn’t do it. After all, you were the one raising the alert and it would be difficult to prove you wanted to kill Poe when the medics found you already performing CPR. And I think what you have with Poe goes much further than the Force. But, Finn, but.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Upon waking up, Poe said, and I quote, ‘I’m sorry, there was nothing else I could do.’ Finn, did he try to kill himself? Did you saw it? I hoped, I had really hoped, that this suicidal madness was behind him. If you knew it went on and didn’t tell about it, if anything happens to Poe, I swear, Finn, I swear I’ll kill you with my own bare hands.”

Finn thought. He was about to lie, to someone who could well _know_ it, and he wasn’t even sure he was right to do it. He looked into her eyes and steeled himself.

“I don’t think – tell you the truth, I caught him with a knife during that withdrawal week. Told me he’d tried to take his life and couldn’t. I took away his knife, nonetheless. But since then he’s gotten better. I’m sure, absolutely sure that he doesn’t _want_ to die. What happened in the nightmare – I, I can’t tell.”

Poe mumbled something in his sleep.

“He’s dreaming,” said General Organa, looking tense.

Finn put a hand on Poe’s arm. “He dreams of Yavin. It’s all right.”

Organa sighed, her eyes glinting. “I remember him as a child on Yavin. I thought – I really thought we had given him a life of peace. What have we done?”

“Everything you could, I think. I don’t know. I was born into this war.”

“My poor child. Finn. A good name. I’m glad you met Poe at least.”

“I’m glad, too.”

“Finn. You’re not under suspicion, and still free to move as you like. But I read Poe’s report, and what happened tonight won’t help the general opinion of you. Be careful?”

Finn nodded, feeling cold again.

/

Pava barged in the medbay as Poe had finally woken up and was having a go at shaving himself, sitting in his bed.

“What happened?” she half-yelled.

“Ow!” yelled Poe. “Shit, I cut myself.”

“Why are you trying to shave with such unsteady hands, you oaf?”

“I like to be clean-shaven, okay? And you could say sorry.”

“Hey, Dameron, I’m certainly not sorry to see you awake and well after tonight’s scare. Even with a razor cut. You could ask Finn. To get help for shaving.”

“Shut up, Pava. If you thought of adding something, just shut up.”

“You’re blushing. Hey, Finn, Dameron’s blushing!”

“Just. Stop.”

“They say you went into cardiac arrest tonight.”

“They’re right. Something happened during a nightmare.”

“Poe? You know you can trust me. _What_ happens during these nightmares? You’re scared of them. They talk of recovery from addiction and exhaustion and the aftermath of torture – sorry – but what I see is that it’s the _nightmares_ that fuck you up so much. Am I right?”

“You’re right.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t. Jess, I can’t. I’ll only say that, _and I trust you not to spread that around, not to anyone_. The nightmares aren’t a danger only for me. And if something specific happens in a few days, I hope you’ll remember what I said.”

“You’re weird.” She nodded. “You can trust me, Poe-boy. And here’s what I’m saying to you. You know there’s a reason I’m so good with meditating. I met Stormtroopers before, huh. And I managed to get my panic attacks under control. I showed you how. You can do it. And now let go of that razor and get back to sleep. You’re so white you’re grey.”

/

“What you said to Pava, that was about leaving,” said Finn. “You’re still thinking of leaving,”

“More than ever, and soon. Repeated cardiac arrests aren’t good for the health.”

“Do you think you can pilot in that state? How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Nauseous. It will pass, and right now I can pilot something slow and steady without accident. Anyway I can’t leave with my X-wing, even if it weren’t under repair. They’ll need it too much here, and – and it’s a one-person ship.”

“You –” said Finn, and then he stopped because there still were things he wasn’t sure he wanted to say. “Even when you’ll be away, won’t Kylo Ren still be able to fish out the base location in your mind?”

“I – I hope not. I think he doesn’t really _read_ minds in the dream. More that he can _feel_ us. With me, it feels like there’s a physical bond, like a rope linking us, something he could follow to find me. Force, he nearly did last night! In real life, he. He – he truly pried my mind apart. My thoughts. Data. In the dream, we can still keep what we know to ourselves. It’s the thoughts we _give_ him he can feel. That lullaby that came up. He didn’t destroy it, didn’t tear it off, did he? I bet you can still remember it. And the emotions. He feels them, he twists them. He just plays with us, weakens us, as if we were some animals in an arena, so that he can go for the kill. I’m sorry, Finn. I’m so sorry he found you tonight.”

“It wasn’t all bad, I – I discovered things about myself. Poe? You really want to talk about it right now? You’re sweating buckets.”

“No,” said Poe, who was now shivering violently. Something began to blip red on the new monitoring box. “No, you’re right, I’d rather wait a little. Though there _were_ things in that dream we should talk about, Finn.”

Poe’s breathing went studiedly slower and deeper. After a while, the red light on the monitor dimmed and stopped. Finn racked his brains for a safe conversation topic.

“So,” he said finally. “I was told you spent the day at the simulators yesterday. There was talk of record breaking?”

Poe’s smile was near predatory. “Yeah. I mean, I already own most of the classical records, the ones involving fighters and bad odds. I still improved some of them. Although I’m willing to bet some of the limits they set on that thing, the simulator I mean, aren’t realistic. You certainly can fly a T-70 upside-down in atmosphere and still use retro while shooting. But where I really showed them yesterday is when I led the fights with the most unlikely clunkers ever. Recon ships. Transports. Old B-wings. _These_ records aren’t going to be broken for a long time, let me tell you. Even Pava won’t know how to get at it.”

“She’s a good pilot, Pava?”

“Excellent. I’m glad she’s the one having my six usually. She should learn to branch out from the T-70s, though. It limits her perception of what can be done. I’m betting your Rey has more potential because of that. But yeah, Jess is very, very good. Or I couldn’t have attempted that move the other day.”

“You know, Poe, I like her now, I really like her, but I’ll be damned if I can figure your relationship with her. She keeps insulting you, and yet at times she appears to be the fiercest friend you have. She yelled at a general yesterday for you.”

“I love that foul-mouthed girl. She’s got no filters, you know? If she thinks something, she’ll never stop to wonder if telling it is the right thing to do. She’ll just talk. Once you know that, you realise it’s a very precious thing to have, a friend like that. Jess, she’s -”

“- And that’s another thing. What’s up with all your names? I mean, you call her Pava, then Jess although her first name is Jessika, while she alternates between Dameron and Commander and variants of your first name, among which Poe-boy which I find sweet and absolutely scandalous, let me tell you, and I’m not even going into Wexley’s names, because there are _three_ of them. And I can’t figure the pattern in all of this.”

Poe’s features flickered. _Shit_ , thought Finn. _Another oh-my-poor-ignorant-Stormtrooper-child topic. Should have known_. “I mean,” he went on. “I know most people here have two names. Like the higher-ups in the First Order. And I can guess one of Wexley’s names is a nickname, like for Zeroes or Nines or Slip in my squad back then.”

It didn’t help. Poe’s expression was darkening by the minute, finally settling in-between murderous and commiserative.

“You mean they never told you – you never learned what difference there is between a first and a last name?”

Finn sighed, tried not to let his annoyance show. “I know what it meant in the First Order. Usually. Most often what comes first is a title, like Darth. Or a grade. Like General Hux. Sometimes it’s something they choose because it sounds better, like, uh, Kylo Ren.”

“And that’s all? That’s all you understand of names, Finn? Things that sound well or tell you who to fear? _Force_.”

“Poe. I know you prefer me to call you Poe, so I do, while your superiors use the other one, I see there’s a difference, but, please…”

“Finn. Finn, that’s your own name.”

“Yeah, I liked it. You…”

“I mean, it was given, _I_ gave it to you, you only, and then –”

“Poe. I don’t –”

“The second name, Finn, it’s the name of your family. I’m sorry that you don’t – You should – Dameron comes from my father –”

 _Family_. After too many sessions working with Melakh at his earliest memories, and most of all after last night, it brought out too many feelings, longing, loss, and a terrible anger at everyone and everything that had robbed him of so much.

“Stop it!” Finn was surprised to hear himself yell. “Stop it, Poe! I don’t want to talk about that right now! Can’t you see? Can’t you see how you all are always being with me? The pilots, the General, Melakh, even the droids, shit! I can see it, all the time! Poor Finn, he doesn’t know a thing! Poor Finn, needs to be told about ironing! Poor Finn, doesn’t know the real meaning of music! How sad, he doesn’t know what cheese it!”

Finn rose, began to pace around the room, stopped to hit Poe in the chest with a finger. “So what, I add chocolate to cheese in the mess because I don’t know any better? So what, I have only one name that I chose because I liked it, because you gave it to me? Fucking hell, Poe, you lot would be as lost, if not more, among Stormtroopers! We had things, too! We used to tag the walls, had favourite foods, nicknames! We aren’t babes that need to be shown everything!”

“Finn…” said Poe.

“No! Listen to me, for a while, just listen! We told stories. We sang songs. They were instruments in the hands of the First Order, they took them to mould and break us, but they were ours, nonetheless. I watch you here, watch your face when you’re feeling murderous because of something the First Order did to me. As if I couldn’t – fuck, Poe, I can fight for myself! I can get my own revenge! And don’t think that I don’t see your pity and your fear to break me! I’m not made of glass! I see you, I see you turn around me, poor Finn, needs to know about touch, poor Finn, never had a massage, poor Finn, was he ever only _told_ of sex? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you! We have sex in the First Order. We wank! We fuck! Is that what you wanted to know, Poe? Is that it?”

Finn stopped, out of breath. Looked at Poe who was looking at him with eyes like saucers and a stricken expression on his face.

Realised what had just come out of him and bolted out.

/

Poe stood up and tried to go after Finn. He had to steady himself at the wall and when the room stopped turning around him Finn was gone. He rushed to the door.

“Where are you going, Commander?” asked NR4.

“After Finn, isn’t that obvious?”

“The observation period isn’t finished, it’s not advisable to leave the medbay if –”

“Dammit, NR4! You’re a nurse, I _know_ you have some empathy coded into you somewhere. Are you dumb? Please. Let me go. Or are security droids involved again?”

“No,” said NR4. “Just common sense. All right. Just slap this on your chest, here and here. Vitals monitor and defibrillator, just in case. It’s the extra-flat model, it shouldn’t get in the way. And good luck. Finn ran in the direction of the hangars.”

Poe ran. And then, as he felt his heart was about to stop again, just walked. Fast.

To the hangars, NR4 had said. But where exactly? The only hangar Poe knew Finn knew about was his own, well, Black One’s, where he’d gone once to find BB-8. Poe decided to try his luck.

/

Sure enough, Finn was in there. He leant on one of the X-Wing landing braces, looking as out of breath as Poe felt.

Poe walked to him, his steps echoing in the half-empty hangar.

“Finn,” he said, standing close, so close, and not daring to touch him. “I…”

“Poe,” said Finn, his voice hoarse.

“What you asked in the medbay. Your last question. May I answer?”

Finn nodded.

“I – yes, I very much wanted to know whether you knew about sex. I… like the answer.”

Finn was so close, and Poe couldn’t refrain anymore to set his hands on him. Only his hands on Finn’s arms.

Finn gulped, opened his mouth slightly and Poe couldn’t pry his eyes from the shape of this delicious-looking, plump upper lip.

“Before it gets any further,” said Poe, trying hard to rein in his instincts. “I want to check that – to say. I’m not Rey.”

“You’d better not be,” said Finn. “Rey’s my friend. My sweet, brave, strong, nice _friend_.”

Poe released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Fuck. I’m dumber than a newborn bantha, do you know that?” He took a shuddering breath. “Also, I’m an asshole who fucks other assholes just for the thrill.”

“I know. And you’d better believe I’m not just the next asshole.”

“I’ll remember that. Actually,” said Poe fervently, “it’s not hard to remember. You’re – you’re _special_ , Finn.” He realised his hands had a life of their own and had slipped inside Finn’s jacket, playing with the fabric of the shirt, caressing the skin underneath. He looked up to Finn’s eyes. “And I have the life expectancy of a lilafly right now, you realise. I could die tomorrow. It’s not wise, not wise at all to attach yourself to me.”

Finn’s own hands rose and circled around Poe’s biceps. “Shut up,” said Finn, and he crashed his lips against Poe’s.

For a while, a very long while, they only tried to get to as much skin as they could, to press flush against each other as completely as they could. Poe couldn’t get enough of the feeling of Finn’s skin against the hand he pressed against his back, of the texture of Finn’s hair under the rake of his fingers. Finn’s whole body was trying to mould itself around Poe’s, chest against chest and groin against groin. He had both hands hooked in Poe’s hair and used them to _push_ , push Poe into the kiss until it hurt so _good_. Their mouths were artlessly exploring, tasting, _feeling_ , teeth sometimes clicking, lips going from lips to stubble to ears and back to the lips and it was sloppy and messy and exactly what Poe had been needing for all this time.

Then Poe remembered to open his mouth and Finn’s tongue slipped inside, slowly, methodically, exploring around the teeth and just licking inside, firm at first and then suddenly soft and pliant and Finn moaned and sighed at the same time, hot breath directly in Poe’s mouth. Poe couldn’t help the undignified grunt that got out as an echo and used the lull to take the initiative, sending his tongue to curl around Finn’s, then biting at that mouthwatering lower lip. It elicited such a noise of delight and joy and plain desire from Finn that Poe had to pull out just to look at him, just to check out that this was _real_.

“Dammit, Poe,” moaned Finn in a near-broken voice. “You can’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Fuck. Didn’t think Stormtroopers learned to kiss like that.”

“Stormtroopers don’t kiss,” answered Finn with a smile that was half delight, half wavering, devastated _want_. “But I do.”

Poe cupped Finn’s head in both hands and kissed him again as thoroughly as he remembered how, pouring skill and passion and fervour and, yes, _love_ into it. Finn moaned again. “I want more,” he breathed against Poe’s lips. “Right now. Can’t wait.” He put a hand over Poe’s heart. “You?” he added, sounding a little unsure.

Poe pushed himself flush against Finn, rocked his hips a little, letting Finn feel the hardness of his cock. “Want you, Finn,” he croaked. “But not like that, not standing in the dirt.”

“Fuck, Poe! Where?”

“Cockpit.”

“Thought you said it’s a one-man ship?”

“Yeah,” said Poe, smirking a little, “but the seat lowers to make a very decent cot. Good enough for two. Trust me.”

/

Finn’s out of breath sounds on the ladder behind Poe had an impressive effect on his groin and this in turn was doing no favour to the blood flow to his brain. He needed three tries to manage the cockpit lock.

He finally found himself kneeing on the makeshift cot, inviting Finn in. Finn threw himself at Poe, trying to kiss and divert him from his shirt at the same time. The jacket Poe had thrown on upon leaving medbay was long gone, probably abandoned somewhere on the ground below.

“Wait,” said Poe. “Turning on the heat.”

He went back to Finn, taking his time, weighing the need to see Finn naked against the wish to make this last. Fuck it. He couldn’t wait. He pulled at his own shirt and Finn joined in, the shirt soon over his head and off, adorning the console by their feet. Finn’s hands were trembling just a little and fought inefficiently against Poe’s belt until he just pulled down and got everything off in a suspicious ripping sound.

“You’re still clothed,” said Poe. “As much as I love you in this beautifully mended jacket I just can’t stand it right now. Let me.”

He tried to go slow, nearly reverent when he pushed the jacked aside, then letting his hands trail slowly up Finn’s torso, one on the side and the other avoiding the adhesive dressing that was still there, going in the front up Finn’s stomach and pecs, then sideways on the shoulder, bunching up the shirt and finally getting it off. “Force, Finn,” he said. “You’re a gorgeous, gorgeous man.”

Finn bent forward to steal another kiss and lay his hands on Poe’s shoulders in an inversed echo of Poe’s moves. The hands went slowly down, fingers pressing and exploring until they dug into that little roll of fat that clung to Poe’s hips even when he knew that he was too thin everywhere else. It should have made Poe feel self-conscious but it didn’t, so obviously delighted by the discovery Finn was as he chuckled with his mouth into Poe’s neck, saying “I knew it, I knew it!”

Finn’s hands were agonisingly close to Poe’s already aching cock and he couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed his hips and ground himself against Finn’s still clothed groin, simultaneously biting and mouthing at Finn’s ear, the grunt and shiver he got in return going straight to his cock. “Let’s get this show going, hey?” he managed. “However you want it.” Finn moaned at that and his hips bucked but he didn’t move in any other way.

“Finn? The Force knows I can get off by just grinding on in the state I am, and I give very good handjobs if you like but is this what you want? With what you said at medbay I thought you’d go for more?”

Finn pushed off a little and looked at Poe with eyes too large and too lost, desire mingling with something darker and – pained?

“Fucking hell, Poe,” said Finn in a wavering voice. “I want you. I want to fuck you. You have the most incredible gorgeous fuckable ass I ever saw and I want my cock in it more than anything I ever wanted in this life.”

“Yeah, I know I have a nice ass, so?”

“You’re – but you’re not weak! You don’t bend under authority. How could you let me do that to you?”

Oh, thought Poe. Oh, of course. Shit. “Finn,” he began, kissing his collarbone and drawing small circles with his fingers on the top of his thighs, close, very close to his still-covered cock. “You like to top, uh? And, don’t bolt on me again, but could this be another cultural misunderstanding, sort of?”

“I – I nearly only ever topped. I like that, yeah. Very much. It’s – also, it’s, it was a question of status. Place in the group. I only had to do it the other way around once. Didn’t like it much.”

“Yeah. Well, I never _had_ to bottom. But I very often _chose_ to do so, and thank the Force it has never had anything to do with status. Bottoming, it’s not about being weak, or bending to authority, at least not for me.” He smiled, brought his hand over Finn’s marvellously enduring hard length, caressed lightly. Bent and kissed a nipple. “It’s about _trust_. I trust my partner to care for me and to do me good, and I do the same for him. If you want, if you’re ready one day, I can try to show you all the good things you can feel while bottoming. It does feel nice, you know? The filling, the friction, the, the special places where –” he had to bite his lips and bite hard not to get himself carried away. “But right now, Finn, I trust you, and I _want_ you, want you in me. Please.”

“You’re sure?”

“Dammit, Finn!”

Finn finally reached a decision and shrugged out of his pants and underwear in one supple move that got Poe a little flustered. Finn’s cock was a thing of beauty.

“Tell you what,” Poe said. “I’ll say if there’s anything I don’t like.” He smiled wide. “Or if there’s anything I do like, uh? Beginning by this here,” he added with an appreciative look at Finn’s cock, which twitched.

“Poe, do I need to slap on a condom? I don’t have any. Do you get your shots in the Resistance?”

“Yeah, we do. You?”

“Yes.”

“No condom it is, Finn my boy. Wait a sec’, lube is on this side.”

Truth to be told, there was lube stacked on both sides but Poe would never let the chance to roll over a naked Finn and grind his hips a little more, flustered cock against flustered cock, pass by. Finn moaned. “You want my cock in you, you tease,” he said, breathing hard. “Just don’t do that too long or I might not last.”

Poe handed Finn the lube and wondered for a fleeting instant whether the First Order believed in preparation. That fucking mistake with Suhail had been rough and he wasn’t sure he could take Finn’s gorgeous, _thick_ cock without.

Finn rolled on his side and smiled, mouth open and teeth out. He brought his hand to the bruise on Poe’s neck, pressed a little. Changed his hand for his mouth, breaths coming out in puffs and cooling the tender skin. He made a small noise, maybe angry, maybe helpless, maybe undone. His teeth grazed the area until Poe shivered, and then Finn _kissed_ the small wound, kissed with his wet, tender, full lips.

His kisses shifted, following Poe’s collarbone, then a line across his chest, with an annoyed sound at bumping against one of the monitors. Poe couldn’t believe it. Finn was going down on him, and he was willing to bet that it was something he’d never done before. And sure, when Finn’s mouth closed over Poe’s cock, his technique was sloppy, no breathing and not much attempt at pacing, but Force he was _hot_ , his cheeks darker than usual and his eyes big as he looked up to Poe.

“Yessss,” said Poe. “Oh Force Finn that’s good. Touch – can you touch my ass – ahhh don’t stop – at the same time?”

Finn pulled out for air. “You have bruises there too,” he growled. “On your ass cheeks.” One of his hands grabbed there, squeezing hard. Poe moaned. Finn had larger hands than Suhail, stronger, more calloused, hands that were now kneading and pushing and circling around his hole and Finn made a noise of pure delight. “Love your fucking ass, Poe Dameron,” he said, his nose in the curls around Poe’s cock, breathing hard.

“Finn,” panted Poe. “Dammit, Finn, come back up, I want to touch you too. Touch your cock. Nghhh, come back up or I won’t last, ahhh.”

Finn finally went up, kissing Poe’s mouth again with all his might. Poe chuckled at the onslaught, delighted at Finn’s obvious eagerness to use his mouth. “Don’t – ohhhhh – don’t squeeze my cock too much,” moaned Finn, “I want this to last too – fuck, ah –” Finn pushed himself out from their embrace a little, completely out of breath, eyes half-lidded and wet mouth open. Poe pressed hard at the base of Finn’s cock, hoping it would be enough to stall him. “Fuck,” gasped Finn again, eyes wild. “Fuck, let’s get at your ass, huh?”

Finn unscrewed the lube and Poe marvelled at Finn's restraint and thanked his stars because Finn was coating his fingers and not his cock right now. Finn raised one of Poe’s legs over and on Finn’s arm, lying at his side. Not the most comfortable position but Poe, like Finn, couldn’t get enough of the feeling of skin against skin, of the smell of the other, and the kisses, Force, the kisses. The first finger, thick, warm, breaching the still tender rim of Poe’s muscles made Poe clench and gasp.

“You all right?” asked Finn.

“Fuck,” panted Poe. “More than all right. Ohhh. You’re good, fuck you’re good,” he added as Finn resumed moving that finger inside him, pushing further, tantalisingly close to that spot that would make him see stars.

“Another finger?”

“You’re teasing? Ah, sorry. Fuck yeah. Give me that finger, and don’t wait too long for the third one, fuck, I _want_ that. Ah, Force, I love how you look, Finn, I know you’re gonna fuck me so good, you’re such a wonder, you look so, so gone.”

“Are you-” said Finn, halting on the words, “ready? Cause I can’t –”

“Yeah.”

“How do you want it?”

“On my back. Want to see you. If your side and arm are all right.”

“Don’t give a damn about my side and arm,” said Finn, positioning himself and pushing barely in, just the head of his glorious cock. Poe raised his legs and hooked them over Finn’s shoulders, trying to help with the angle and to speed things a little.

Finn pushed in another inch, stopped. “Fuck, Poe, you’re so tight. You’re sure you –”

“Hell, Finn, if you don’t start to move, really move very soon I’m gonna cry!”

And Finn did, a long sweep of his hips that brought him sheathed full. Poe felt himself open wide and revelled in the sensation, closing his eyes and biting his lips and letting escape a long, wavering moan that had Finn laughing at the sheer joy of it. As Finn began to pick up a pace, long, slow thrusts that were slowly getting Poe mad, Poe had to open is eyes again to look at him. He was glorious. His dark skin glistened with sweat, the dim parking lights of the cockpit drawing long black shadows along his muscled arms and stomach. As he pushed in he was throwing his head back, mouth open and tongue out licking at his upper lips, brow furrowed, and his eyes, his eyes were wild.

Finn noticed Poe watching him and smiled. “You’re gorgeous, Poe,” he said. “You’re incredible. The way you follow me. Oh Force, your throat, exposed like that. You lips. Your ass. It feels so good, so good!”

“You’re a wonder, Finn, I can’t, I can’t believe it. So, so tender. So _hot_. So good.”

Finn stopped himself on the upstroke, breathed hard and slammed back inside, fast, strong, even deeper. Poe yelled in pleasure and Finn increased his pace, raising on his knees and bending to hold Poe in place. “You like that,” he said, “you really like that.”

Poe strained his head up and managed to raise it enough for a kiss. “Hell damn yes, I _love_ that. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop. You just hit there and hard and you _don’t stop_.”

Finn bent back even lower to prolong the kiss and Poe didn’t miss the small pinching of his features as his wounded side folded a little too far.

“You trust me, Finn?” said Poe, gripping Finn’s back with his legs and pushing up his ass for good measure, eliciting a delicious moan.

“Sure,” said Finn hoarsely. “Yes.”

“Then you tell me if this is okay.”

Poe used the lever of his legs to push Finn on his side. They remained like that for a few heartbeats, side by side and pressed flush against each other, legs knotted together, lips and tongue fused, arms and hands pressing and grabbing and caressing. Finn didn’t stop moving inside Poe, shallower, less effective thrusts that had Poe trying to roll and buck his hips for more.

“Ready?” asked Poe.

“Yeah. For what?”

“This.” Poe rolled Finn on his back and pushed with one arm and leg until he was sitting on Finn, pushing down and down until Finn’s cock was all in. He took a long, shuddering breath. Finn was trembling under him, trying to push his hips up.

“Okay?” asked Poe.

“Damn, Poe. Oh damn. I can’t – _move_. Move your ass, fuck. Force I’m in so _deep_.”

Poe bent forward to find the best angle and started to move in earnest. Finn was looking him in the eyes and had brought his fingers in Poe’s mouth and Poe was sucking and biting and feeling wild.

“Gonna –” said Poe. “Need to touch myself.”

He managed to balance himself on one arm and freed the other to wrap around his leaking cock. Finn’s hand went to curl around his own and the sight, dark brown fingers entwined with tanned light brown around his weeping cock’s head nearly sent him over the edge.

Finn managed to get his feet under him and pushed up, pushed in increasingly erratic thrusts that finally made Poe collapse, half on Finn’s good side and half on the cot. Finn rolled back on top, pressed flush against Poe, trapping their hands under his stomach. He pounded and pounded into Poe’s ass, grunting and moaning and panting and their hands worked at Poe’s cock in rhythm and Poe could feel _Finn’s_ pleasure build and build and mix and mingle with his own and grow so big it engulfed everything. He clenched as he felt himself spurt all over their hands and stomach and Finn howled and bucked and yelled and came, came and came in Poe’s ass, the aftershocks wracking them both until they fell trembling into each other’s arm, still rolling their hips reflexively.

 _Get a room, you lovebirds_ , came Rey’s presence from very, very far away. _Force bonds are nice and great but I swear you really have to learn to control it. I didn’t need to know about that._

“Fuck,” said Finn. He looked distinctly darker around the ears.

“You think she felt all of it, or only the end?” said Poe.

“The end was incredible,” said Finn.

“Yeah. I felt the Force.” Poe turned his head to give Finn a long, deep, tender kiss.

“Don’t care if she felt that one,” he said when he had to stop. “Was only for you, though. I – I love you, Finn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the thing with writing porn, especially at the end of a long, did I say long? chapter that I didn't want to split (again) in two. I was so concentrated on making it work that I totally don't know if it does. Please tell me? (Love your comments)
> 
> Also, the story is very far from being done...
> 
> The Stormtroopers don't kiss line is lifted from an old western (Delmer Dave's The Last Wagon). I've been wanting to use it in this context for a very, very long time!
> 
> Edit : I am on tumblr. Finally. (Scares me a little. All these gifs.) here : [http://la-tarasque.tumblr.com](http://la-tarasque.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn gets caught between love and duty, and Poe gets to try the L'ullo Stand with a freighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the loooong delay, folks. The day job got a little hectic and then I went on holidays in a place of wonderful mountains and untrustworthy wifi. I hope you still remember what happened before!

Finn thought he’d never have enough of his lips on Poe’s own. Of Poe’s mouth devouring his own. What Poe, right now, was doing with Finn’s lower lip was – was something he’d never thought would feel so good, the way he sucked at it, the slickness and the warmth and the small tender noises. Truly, he didn’t care either whether Rey felt this one or not.

“I love you,” said Poe.

I love you. Three months ago, Finn wouldn’t have understood. Or would have buried any hint of longing for such words so deep inside that it would have been the same. Some two months ago on his first day as a free man, Finn would have frozen and balked. Probably fled, afraid to death of his own feelings, scared for the other who would dare uncover such a dark secret. Or maybe, he thought, thinking of these short hours before meeting Pava when he had thought Poe and himself shared such a unique bond – and they did, he realised now, they did, maybe even then – he’d have fallen into the trap, answered with an I love you of his own without knowing at all what it meant.

But right now he thought he understood. Right now, it felt like opening the hatch of a ship and gazing for the first time upon all the depth and the stars of the universe. Elating. Beautiful. Unknown. Scary beyond measure.

Right.

There was that unescapable attraction. This feeling he’d always know Poe in a crowd, and he dearly hoped it wasn’t some Force-inducted trick, but the way Poe’s soul felt a lost part of his own, the instinctive knowledge of every layer there was beyond that sunny, friendly façade. But what made this real wasn’t that feeling of _fate_. It was, even deeper, the way their bond was now built on trust in each other, on admiration, on understanding. He’d seen Poe at his worst. Exhausted, addicted, terrified. Guilty. Ashamed. Wrong. And through all of this he’d still seen the soft, glowing _goodness_ that was Poe and he’d only felt the attraction grow stronger.

He also knew that in the intimacy of Poe’s arms and gaze he was, finally, allowed to be himself. To let go of the mask of toughness he was building against his detractors and the mask of innocence his friends put on him.

He loved Poe. He _knew_ Poe loved him, with or without the words being told. It was trust, desire, joy, an immense tenderness and an immense fear. It was a binding to another so complete there could be no going back.

Finn realised he’d stayed mute and motionless for far too long when he felt Poe move a little further away from him, saw his shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry,” said Poe in a strangled voice. “I shouldn’t -”

“Oh no,” said Finn, taking Poe by the shoulders and bringing him closer. “No! I – I’m sorry if you thought - you’ve got to understand. In the First Order, love was – it was even worse than forbidden, it was instant death!”

“Yes,” said Poe, looking down and paling visibly. “Yes, I understand. I can –”

“Poe. Poe, look at me. Look at my eyes.” Poe did and Finn had to blink several times to keep the moisture away. “I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified and I hate the First Order because it did that to me. But the bond is there. And who cares for the Force when I know it is love?”

Poe swallowed and opened his eyes wider. His upper lip twitched like he was trying for a smile but didn’t quite dare.

“I love you too,” said Finn.

He lay both hands on each side of Poe’s face, tip of fingers touching the stubble lightly. Moved them slowly up and behind, burying them in Poe’s too long, fascinating curls. Brought their foreheads together and stayed like that, nuzzling Poe’s cheek and closing his eyes.

Poe sighed and threw his arm over Finn’s shoulder, bringing him down.

“Come on, champ,” he said. “Lie there against me? I’m exhausted. Believe it or not, saying I love yous isn’t something I’m used to. You – you don’t want to know what my heart did right now. A wonder there’s not an army of meddroids around us already. Let’s cuddle, enjoy the moment, uh?”

Finn felt naked and sticky and exposed and unescapably attracted to the heat that radiated from Poe’s body. He let himself go limp against him, only to feel the loss of warmth as Poe sat up. Finn groaned but as soon as that Poe was back with the jacket (Finn’s jacket? Poe’s jacket? Theirs), was draping it around them as well as he could and moulding himself back around Finn’s body. He threw a possessive leg and arm over Finn, moaned softly and lay still.

Finn found himself with his nose in Poe’s hair. He inhaled the comfortable, already well-known scent, revelling in the idea that he was _there_ , allowed to be so close. Around them, the ship made a strong, tight and surprisingly comfortable cocoon. He fit his leg between Poe’s thighs and closed his eyes.

/

Finn woke up feeling good. The pain from his blaster wounds still lingered, but unimportant, mingling with other newer, better aches. Something was happening on his scalp that he’d never experienced before, a hand carding and massaging through his hair, nails digging and scraping lightly.

“Force,” whispered Poe. “You’re lovely like that. Your eyelashes…” He stirred. “And before I make a complete fool of myself, I think we should move. My leg’s going to sleep.”

Finn turned on his back drowsily and felt the stickiness of the seat under him. He looked down, jumped up, hit his head on a bent cockpit beam. “Oh no!” he exclaimed. “Look at the mess we made!”

Poe’s lips extended in a sinuous, slightly apologetic smile. “Ah,” he said, shrugging a little. “It’s – well, it’s not the first time, I have what we need. Besides, it’s not the only thing I’ll have to wipe out or tidy up here. I’d better do it right now.”

They sat up and got clothed in silence. Poe produced a spray of something and some wipes and they set themselves at the stains, working shoulder to shoulder, stealing kisses, laughing when they became entangled in each other or when the wiping became a little more personal. Finn wondered again at how right this intimacy felt.

After a while, Poe began to retrieve objects out of various compartments. Rations. An old tablet. Memory keys. Oddments, bits of pretty stones and a pressed flower. A sketch of a forest landscape on cardboard. Tubes of – lube?

“You had lube on this side as well!” exclaimed Finn.

Was Poe blushing? His smile was, anyway, dazzling. “Yeah. Want to guess at why I decided to get the one from the other side?”

“You fucker,” said Finn, turning his head and kissing Poe _thoroughly_.

Poe broke the kiss after a while, somewhat out of breath. “Are you going for an encore?” he asked, his voice rough. “I’m all for it, but there are going to be pilots all around this hangar quite soon. Night shift time in a few minutes.”

Finn nodded, willing his hard-on to make itself scarce. “Next time, huh?”

“Sure.”

Poe went back to stuffing items in his pockets.

“What are you doing, Poe?”

Poe had a hand on the commands console making strange ghost movements over the switches. “Saying goodbye to my ship,” he said. “She’s been… I had a great time piloting her. The best. There’s never been a fighter I could trust so much. And never one I could fine-tune to my needs so well. Ah.” He turned away, but not fast enough that Finn couldn’t see the muscle bulge in his jaw. “Time to wipe that off, too.”

He pressed a button in the panel and the whirr of the auxiliary engine became more noticeable. A few lights went up on the console. He typed in a few sequences, sighed. “Here you go. Back to your standard routines, girl.” Then he crouched down, screwdriver in hand. Removed a panel, rummaged inside, finally patted the side of the ship. “And here. Securities are back on.”

“What?” exclaimed Finn. “Don’t tell me you flew this thing with shunted securities!”

“She’s not a thing, Black One. Or, well, maybe she is, but she’s – she was my life. And sure, I shunted securities. How do you think I could move sharp enough otherwise?” His hand had come to rest on a joystick and his thumb was stroking it absentmindedly. “But I know it’s dangerous. In other hands. Overheating engines, bent wings… So, depending on who gets her next, it’s better the wards are on. Shit.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

“No. Shit, no, Finn, I’m not okay.” He slammed his hand on the commands, shutting off the lights and the engine. “But this is it, huh? I’m leaving.” The breath he let out was shaky.

“Finn?” Poe finally asked after a short, uncomfortable silence. “Do you – I don’t suppose what just happened between us changes how you’re standing? I – I thought it was about Rey, but…”

Finn looked up into Poe’s eyes but remained silent.

“If,” Poe went on. “If you left this place. With me. Yeah, with me. But even, not with me. You could step out of being the ex-Stormtrooper, you know? Stop being the victim or the hero. Get a try at being yourself. Fuck, you deserve it! Get a good look at your past. Dig around. And then get to build. Grow. If I only could give you this – I. Shit. Sorry. Not the time.”

Finn felt – conflicted. Scared. Moved, because Poe was somewhat making this about him. And, because of that, tempted.

And personal temptation led to failure, didn’t it?

He cleared his voice. “Maybe. I mean, maybe it’s about Rey. Somewhat about her. I swear, Poe! I swear you’re – swear that I don’t love her like I love you, but. But she’s still my friend. And you seem to think she’s so strong, but I saw how afraid she was that people would abandon her.”

“But we won’t abandon her. I told you. Please, Finn!” Poe started, looked ashamed of his outburst. Took his face in his hands, rubbed hard at his eyes and temples.

“And this –” said Finn, making an all-encompassing swipe of his hand, “all this, the Resistance and all, she believes in it. She really believes.”

“But wanted to get away once, you told me so,” said Poe.

“I nearly did. On Takodana. And then she got caught. But that was before, Poe. Before she, and the people here, and you – you showed me how it could be done. How the First Order is not all-encompassing, how it won’t necessary win. How, how you can live by other rules. It’s my duty. My duty to do what little I can do about it.”

Poe raised a hand and stroked Finn’s cheek. He looked terribly sad. “Duty. It’s easy for you, isn’t it, squashing your needs deep inside, falling back to doing your duty? They’ve – No. I – I wish mine was clearer. Simpler. You understand, Finn, that I have to leave?”

“I do. Force, I _want_ you to get away from here because I don’t want you to die. Especially not at your own hands. That thing with your heart. You son of a bitch, promise me you never do this again.” Finn’s voice had risen. Poe looked straight at him, pressed his lips in a think line. “Promise me, Poe. I think I’ll know – even if you’re far away, I’ll know – promise me.”

Poe seemed to hesitate. Then he sighed, nodded, shifted his hand to the nape of Finn’s neck to bring their faces close. “Promise.”

/

Poe jumped down after Finn and looked around for the jacket he knew he’d abandoned somewhere on the ground.

“Looking for that?” asked a new voice.

Wexley was standing close, Poe’s new jacket in his hands. Poe snatched it back. “What were you doing? I heard the engine. Poe, I’m sorry to have to say it, but you’re not allowed to fly right now, heh?”

“Oh, fuck you, Snap! ‘Course I know. What do you think? Shit, as if I could fly her right now. Have you seen?” Poe took a good look himself, at her sleek lines, her black hull, her coiled power, and the cracks and the tragic bend of her beams. He cleared his voice. “Tell you what, I was checking routines. Getting her clean.”

Wexley’s expression turned suspicious. “Clean? Since when you want to run a clean ship? What are you up to, Poe?” Behind Poe, Finn shifted and moved out of the shadows of the hull. “With _Finn_?” said Wexley. “I see. _Clean_. Dammit, pal. Are you sure he’s –”

“- He’s what?” asked Poe, hoping his voice sounded clipped enough.

“Poe. Everyone knows what happened last night. And that _Finn_ was there. Aren’t you suspicious? Even a little? Stars, I know I am, and I’m not alone! Hell. I know you bring just anyone into your bed, sometimes, or, well, your ship, but –”

“Finn’s not just anyone.”

Wexley’s features twisted into something unpleasant. “Yeah? How far gone are you, Poe? Not just anyone? Maybe not. Fuck, that doesn’t reassure me at all. Hear me, Finn? Not at all! And now, get away from here, before I report you. Both.”

“I _am_ allowed the hangars,” said Poe, feeling the anger rise.

“Yeah? And have you checked _Finn_ is?”

“Fuck you, Snap, _you_ get out before I hit you!”

“Oh. And this is going to help your case how?”

Poe looked in Wexley’s eyes, saw the pain and the rage and the betrayed look. “Shit,” said Poe. “Come on, Finn. We’ve got nothing left for us here.”

/

Outside the night had already fallen and the rain was turning to sleet. They walked shoulder to shoulder but Finn didn’t even feel like taking Poe’s hand, not after that exchange with Wexley.

“Dammit,” said Poe, pulling his jacket over his head. “At least that’s something I won’t miss. Hate that weather. Ready for our grand entrance in Medbay?”

“Grand entrance? What?”

“Heart monitor,” said Poe, patting his own chest. “Transmitter.”

“Commander Dameron, Mister Finn,” said a security droid at the door. “I’m AMU-1-3. We’ve met before in less happy circumstances. I was asked by the staff to stand here in case you needed fast intervention, so I had the honour to follow the action.”

 _Action_? Thought Finn. _Fuck_.

Poe grinned, a little sourly. “Told you so. You make my heart beat quite fast, Finn.”

“I’m glad to be the first to offer my congratulations,” finished the droid.

“Did you win?” asked Poe.

“ _What_?” Said Finn. “What are you talking about, Poe?”

“Bets. I’m sure there were bets involved.”

“Droids bet?”

“Of course,” said the security droid. “All the time. Bits of valuable code, things like that. Calculating probabilities about organic species is such a thrill! So chaotic. Thank you, Commander, yes, I won. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Poe wrapped his arm around Finn’s waist and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s come in, Finn. _Here’s_ a place where we can show ourselves for what we are.” His lips moved from Finn’s cheek to his neck and stayed there, his hand grabbing at Finn’s hair. It wasn’t the best for balance and they stumbled rather than walked inside, welcomed by enthusiastic beeps, whistles, clapping from the hand-owning people and cheers from voice-endowed ones.

Poe extricated himself from Finn’s neck and stood flush against him, both hands on the side of Finn’s head. He looked straight into Finn’s eyes, breathing hard through his nose and lips slightly open. Finn thought he couldn’t be more damnably hot.

“You okay with this, soldier?” asked Poe, his voice rough.

There was an audience. They were giving a show. Or at least Poe intended it and he obviously felt it arousing as hell. And Finn was surprised to realise that he did, too. “Kiss me, pilot,” he said, his heart beating fast.

Poe took his time, just grazing Finn’s lips for the most excruciatingly longest time, his breath coming in short, hurried puffs on Finn’s mouth. Then he sighed and deepened the kiss and when he used his teeth again Finn was _gone_.

When they finally parted the room was silent. Something, decided Finn, like an awed hush. _If our time together is going to end soon_ , he thought, _then at least I want to make myself good memories. And I want others to know how we’ve loved each other in so short a time._ Poe met his eyes, smiled, and nodded.

/

Poe was eyeing both their cots at opposite ends of the room. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said.

“These cots are much too narrow,” answered Finn.

“Do they move?”

“Is that allowed?”

“Oh, Finn. Tell you what, I’m the highest ranking here and I’ll take all the blame. Fuck, mine is screwed to the floor.”

“But the mattress separates,” said Finn, lifting his own.

“Finn, I knew we’d make a real Resistance man out of you. Here’s the spirit!”

Poe dragged his mattress across the room to Finn’s more sheltered area. “Wait a minute, damage control,” he added. “Hey, NR-4! We’re tucking ourselves in for the night, no need to check on us. I promise Finn took care of his wound and I’ve been good with my meds and the monitor’s still there. Could you consider paying attention only to the real alarms and not to every nuance of my heartbeats, would be nice of you, hmmm? Oh, and if moving beds isn’t allowed, no need to tell us, just report through the adequate channel. And only in the morning, okay? Wouldn’t do to wake up someone for such a petty concern.”

/

The lights were dimmed and the place between Finn’s cot and the wall was just large enough for both their mattresses. It didn’t feel claustrophobic and cramped like the narrow stacked up bunk beds of the First Order, Finn realised. It was intimacy, of a kind he’d never known before and wanted to commit to his memory until the end of times.

Poe lay on his side close by, head on one arm, eyes open and looking at Finn. His other hand was tucked under Finn’s shirt, exploring the planes of his back, lightly tracing the edges of the scar there.

Finn began to reciprocate, his own hand on Poe’s chest, then on his stomach, and finally on his hip. The nightclothes, he realised, were making this even more delicious. Everything hidden to the eyes and left to discover with touch – the firm, long muscles of his arms, the taut shoulders and the high, well-defined pecs. The skin of his belly, slightly moist with sweat and shivering under his fingers, the swirl of hair around his navel. The way the skin gave a little above the hips, how he could dig and knead there.

“Oh, Finn, Finn,” said Poe, said it as you’d swear or invoke a deity, raw and vulnerable and true. “I’ll never have enough of this.”

Poe’s hand resumed moving, stroking the shoulders and getting back down, pressing the palm hard on Finn’s chest and following a trail down, so close, so tantalising close to the hem of Finn’s pants.

“Force I love your body,” breathed Poe. “It’s incredible, Finn. Perfect.”

“What?” said Finn, tenderness welling up inside. “No, no. My body was sculpted by orders. By humiliation. I - it’s _your_ body that’s perfect. Gorgeous and strong and, and just this soft, oh Poe, secretly, deliciously soft.” He used both his hands to hitch up Poe’s shirt, dug his fingers in Poe’s sides and brought their stomach and groins together.

“Don’t say that,” mumbled Poe between kisses on Finn’s neck. “Your body’s your own, now. Scars and muscles – oh Force your muscles, Finn – and strength, all yours, and it’s gorgeous, like the whole of you.”

Finn rolled his hips, just a little, and Poe’s breath hitched. His own hips mirrored Finn’s, initiated a tiny, tentative rhythm. Finn could feel Poe’s rapidly hardening cock between both the fabrics of their pants. “Mmmmmh,” he said. “Feels good.”

Poe smiled, an open smile, slightly wavering with nascent desire. “Yeah. So good. Just like that.” He rubbed his cock against Finn, a slow, languid movement of his hips. “Let’s only get rid of this.” The hand he still pressed on Finn’s stomach slid lower and passed the hem of the sleeping pants, stroking purposefully _around_ Finn’s length and finally lowering the pants. He’d somewhat managed to get rid of his own and his dick, his velvety marvellously hard dick was bumping against the joint of Finn’s hip, already leaving a hint of moisture there.

Finn grunted and brought his hand down so fast that his knuckles bumped against Poe’s. “Whoah,” said Poe, “whoah, in a hurry, are we?” His fingers brushed, just brushed against Finn’s aching cock, making it twitch. He chuckled. “I definitely can feel why, huh. Do it together?”

Poe took the time to intertwine their fingers before bringing his cock against Finn’s and setting both their hands around. They grunted in unison and Finn couldn’t help but thrust up in the tight circle, feeling Poe follow with a strangled exclamation.

It was familiar, Finn thought. Definitely something he’d done before, hiding in the pitch-black darkness of the dorms, rubbing together with a half-anonymous comrade to a quick completion. Familiar, and not, because what he was after wasn’t his own pleasure, not only. It was Poe’s body he wanted, and Poe’s hand with his own, Poe’s smell and Poe’s mouth and the grunts and moans and hisses of desire and pleasure he was uttering. Poe was nuzzling at Finn’s neck again, kissing and nibbling at his collarbone and Finn loved and hated it, loved it for the shivers it sent down his spine and to his groin and hated it because he wanted, needed that mouth on his and this tongue in his mouth and these teeth sinking on his lips.

“Kiss me,” he finally managed to pant.

Poe crashed their mouths together, no warning and no preparation, just hunger, just _want_ , mouth open and tongue searching, prodding, battling with Finn’s. He whined and thrust his cock hard against Finn’s, stroking around them both in a faster, erratic rhythm.

“Oh Force, Force,” moaned Finn in Poe’s mouth, “I’m – oooohhhhh!” He came so fast, too fast in their hands, semen coating his fingers and Poe’s still hard cock that was thrusting and thrusting even faster and finally coming too in long silver arcs over their torsos as Finn was throwing his head back and biting his lips not to yell.

“And we’ve made another mess,” smiled Poe in Finn’s shoulder when they were done panting. “I can’t be bothered to-”

“Yeah, but _I_ mind,” said Finn, standing up and getting his hands on a towel. “Let me. Hey, do you think it’s still going to work?” he asked, trying to scrap at Poe’s heart monitor with the towel.

“Ah,” said Poe, “NR-4 probably guessed what it would be exposed to when he gave it to me.”

“Poe?”

“Hmm?”

“You promised, remember?”

Poe looked down, then back up. “I remember.”

/

Poe stirred in Finn’s arms.

“You aren’t sleeping either,” said Finn.

“You all right, Finn?”

“I’m fucking scared. I was the one to call you in the nightmare last time.”

Poe pulled Finn even closer. “I’ve got you,” he said. “And I’m sure scared shitless, too. But we’ve got each other.”

Poe must have been exhausted because after a while his breathing slowed down and his jaw went slack, cushioned there on Finn’s shoulder.

Finn felt too tense. The fear was there, yes, but it had always been and it was only a part of the problem. He felt conflicted, overwhelmed by his emotions. Pulled in opposite directions.

He kept dozing off and starting awake, opening his eyes wide in the dark and looking frantically at Poe’s chest, willing it to keep on rising and falling. His hand was always slipping down and he was always getting it back over Poe’s heart. Checking the beat there. Begging it not to stop.

Poe slept on. Fitfully. For once, the lines between his brows had eased and in the very faint light it made him look younger. Finn wondered if that was how he’d looked before they’d met, so carefree with the tenseness erased from the line of his mouth and the set of his eyelids, and so, so beautiful. Even in sleep, he was clutching at Finn, a fist caught in the fabric at Finn’s back and a thigh wedged between Finn’s legs. His mouth was half-open and wet on the hollow of Finn’s shoulder and his lips were fractionally moving.

He moaned and his breathing went shallower. _Dreaming_. Finn felt dread freeze his heart and prepared himself for the pull. But Poe moaned again and threw his head back and his expression wasn’t one of anguish. The noise he made was vulnerable and low and delighted, a soft cry of pleasure, and his hips bucked just a little.

An erotic dream. Finn felt himself melt and gathered Poe in his arms, holding him and hovering just at the edge of the dream as Poe was twitching and mumbling and half-moaning again, and finally shuddering before going limp in Finn’s embrace.

Finn draped himself around him and finally went to sleep.

/

He woke up with a start and a shout of dismay among the noises of the morning. He’d overslept. He’d overslept! Panic surged and he made to rise at once only to fall back when he realised on what, or rather whom he’d slept.

His head was on Poe’s lap and Poe was gently pressing on his shoulders and making a shushing noise. “It’s all right,” he was repeating. “It’s all right. Nobody’s gonna do anything to you because you slept, huh? It’s all right. You’re all right, Finn.”

Finn rubbed at his eyes and stretched. The surroundings were unusual. Cramped – maybe that had added to his feeling of unease upon waking? Oh. The mattresses. The previous night came back to him at once, the tender lovemaking, the sleeplessness, Poe’s dream – and no nightmare. He finally felt himself unwind, let his head loll back on Poe’s lap and stretched again.

“Force,” whispered Poe. “I could watch you like that until the end of times.”

Finn felt a pang of despair at that. Poe could, maybe. But he wouldn’t.

“But you won’t,” said Finn. “Hell, you won’t. When are you leaving, Poe? Today? Tomorrow?”

Poe tensed at once and looked away. Didn’t say a thing.

Finn took a deep breath. “Don’t leave,” he heard himself say.

“What?”

“Don’t leave. Please. You can fight the nightmares. Or maybe, maybe they won’t come so often now. It – it wasn’t a nightmare you had tonight. Poe?”

“Fuck,” said Poe, looking undone. “Why do you have to make it harder, Finn? I’d love – fuck, would be so great if love could vanquish the darkness, huh? We make love and look into each other’s eyes and Kylo Ren goes away.”

“Poe-“

“Ha. You know, Finn, you know it. Doesn’t work that way. One day or the other I’ll call him back. I’m weak. I’m too broken to be repaired like that.”

Finn sat up, felt the need to press a hand on Poe’s chest. “But you know how to fight,” he said fervently. “And you don’t give up. I saw you. Poe. You don’t have to fight alone. You’re broken, you say. Well, mend yourself! You say it’s the nightmare, but _you’re_ the one calling Ren, giving him all these wounds from your past to feast on. _Shit_. And I am, too.”

“Finn, no –”

“I am. My past is fucking scary and I am feeding all of it to that fucker. But we can heal. I know we can. Leia Organa, and that specialised med, Candonopsis, they’re right, you know. We have to face those fears. Make them harmless. Ask for help. Poe. Talk to Leia. She’ll listen.”

Poe chuckled mirthlessly. “Talk to Leia? But didn’t I try already? See where it brought me. They thought I was mad, depressive, paranoid. I hoped she knew enough about the Force to help me, see? Well, seems she doesn’t even accept that her son can reach us that far – or, fuck, that _I_ am bound so helplessly to him. Fucking hell, Finn, maybe I am paranoid but I know, I know this is real, and I won’t ask them for help if that means they’re condemning themselves and all the base with them.”

“Poe. I talked to Leia after your heart – yesterday morning, when you were still asleep. She’s guessing your heart didn’t stop by itself. She was thinking you did it. She talked of the Force. Maybe she’d believe you now?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No. Finn. Don’t make it harder. Please.”

Poe rose up, scratching the back of his head and looking glorious in his old tee-shirt and low-riding pants. He sighed. “I’m going to the ‘fresher and then I have to work at those codes again. I’ll leave soon, Finn. Tomorrow, probably.” His voice broke. “Or the next day.”

/

Poe was at a dead end. He thought. BB-8’s code was a maze and he didn’t want to know how many routines he’d just opened and tried to make sense of. And his tries at discretely cracking Main Comp were successful only in the sense that he hadn’t been caught. Yet. The graphs and diagrams and holos around him were as dense as a forest and he honestly couldn’t say anymore if some of those were a map of the comp structure or a diagram of BB-8’s wiring.

His best chance with Main Comp was using some idiot’s identification, say, not so randomly, Captison’s, and that had been the easy part. Passwords would be either a battle or references to an army corps, and yeah. Both. But of course sensible, clever people didn’t trust Captison with much and Ackbar’s people were certainly clever. Clever to the point Poe still didn’t know just _where_ the files were. Unless?

Ah. Little packs of data, many, many of them. Scattered. Heavily protected, and he’d nearly tripped into that firewall. Fucking damn encrypted, of course. Far, far above his abilities.

BB-8 trilled and Poe jumped, slammed his hand on a key to shut off the holo.

“Fuck, BB-8, that’s no way to come upon someone! Didn’t hear you.”

“Yeah, that was one of your programs.”

“No, of course not! You know me, I wouldn’t –”

He realised BB-8 was nearly vibrating, rolling back and forth and sideways in small jerky movement that felt like – that felt a lot like anger, or anguish, or both.

“Hey, what’s up, buddy? That’s not the program, is –?”

BB-8 beeped and trilled and whistled, so shrill it was at the limit of human’s hearing.

“What? Finn? Finn got in a fight? Fucking hell, where? Is he all right?”

“Oh. Fistfight. _With a pilot_? Oh, Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Damn their superstitious, gregarious little minds. What’s he gonna do when I – if – fuck. He shouldn’t stay here with me. Each time I can’t get myself out of harm they think he did it.”

It turned out BB-8 could beep even shriller.

Poe nearly didn’t hear the door open and close behind all that noise. Finn had done a decent work of being inconspicuous, but this was Finn, filling in a Finn-shaped hole in Poe’s soul, and Poe knew.

One of his eyes was beginning to swell shut, the skin split and darkening on the cheekbone.

“So,” said Poe. “Who were they?”

“Who cares,” said Finn dejectedly.

BB-8 rolled away to Finn and bumped his calves gently, then launched into a series of low, insistent beeps.

“He says that you mustn’t leave me,” translated Poe. “That you should always stay with me, and that I’ll show them.”

“Shouldn’t leave you? So you’ve finally told him?”

“What? Oh, no. He’s reacting to something I said before, I think. Let me have a look at that, huh? It’s already swelling. There’ve got that gel here, wait.”

Poe rummaged in a drawer marked _authorised staff only,_ retrieved a bottle of something translucent and green and threw it to Finn. “Shit,” he said as Finn began to apply some on his cheekbone. “You should put some on your knuckles, too. I guess I’ll know who did that tomorrow by searching for a face more bruised than yours, uh?”

“Searching for several faces,” mumbled Finn. “But yeah. They shouldn’t have –”

“Have what?”

“Not important. Oh, fuck, Poe, you know what they say, don’t you. You’ve heard Wexley.”

BB-8 added a couple of shrill whistles.

“He says I should help you get away,” said Poe. “Seems he and I share the same idea.”

Poe looked down to BB-8 and back to Finn, then crouched to the droid’s level. “Well. BB-8, I’d have asked you at one point or another, and this makes me I think I’d better tell you. About all those codes, and the rest.” He took a deep breath. “ _I_ am the one who’s getting away. I was – I’m still hoping Finn will come with me, but he – I don’t know. I don’t know what you really want, Finn.”

Finn remained silent.

“BB-8, you won’t report me, this time. You won’t. Kylo Ren is after me, using the Force to get me, and if I don’t leave he finds the base.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Finn chimed in. “Kylo Ren _is_ after him, and the way Poe sees it, nobody can help him here.”

“And, hum, about these codes you saw. I – I had hoped you could help me. I just didn’t know if – how it would interfere with your core programs, ah. I’d better show you.” He switched his console back on, selected a few diagrams. “This is – these are the files I’m after. I’ll need them if – you see how they would help, don’t you, buddy? Only, They’re fucking heavy, I can’t load them onto that console without setting off red-level alarms, and even if I could I doubt I can hack Ackbar’s codes.”

BB-8 blooped thoughtfully.

Poe sighed heavily.

“Here we are, BB-8. Now you can report me to the generals, if you think it’s the way to go. Or you can help me get away in a stolen ship with classified information. Your move.”

For what felt like an eternity, BB-8 didn’t stir. Poe wondered if he’d be fast enough to – to what? Catch BB-8, manage not to get electrocuted, burned or something else, remove his fuel cell, disable him, even temporarily, just the time for him to jump into a ship, any ship? Fuck. Even if he had a chance, which he doubted, he couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t. He just extended his hand to BB-8’s ball of a body and lay it there.

BB-8 didn’t talk. He only lowered his head a notch in a curious jerky movement. A nod. Then he rolled to the console and extended a connexion to it. Thrilled fast at a file that showed up on the holo.

“No,” said Poe. “Not this pack. I’m not looking to hack the whole intelligence files. Only those, those about him, see? Or that could help him. Things about the First Order, yeah. But I don’t want them to think – ah, fuck, they’ll think it anyway and they have to. But I – I want to do it the honourable way. I can’t get any intel too valuable to the enemy.”

BB-8 beeped interrogatively.

“All the files that begin with a variant of this code,” said Poe. “Found it by plotting in Finn’s schedule from the last month. See, they’ve hidden them everywhere. There’s even one in the kitchen comp! I always knew Ackbar was a paranoid freak, but fuck me, he’s an _excellent_ paranoid freak.”

/

Finn realised he was still rubbing that tingling gel over his bruises to the point of becoming numb and stopped. He was feeling his annoyance grow. Poe and BB-8 were thigh against ball in front of the console, surrounded by diagrams and data of all kind, Poe typing in madly and BB-8 sort of humming, lines of data flickering all around him. They’d all but forgotten him, and he hated that, hated it even more considering that Poe kept hinting these files had some connexion to Finn.

He tried to make sense of all these data and graphs floating in the air. But Stormtrooper training didn’t include much beyond learning to type in a carefully limited set of passwords on a console, and that made him only feel more angry and jealous of this Poe who wasn’t only a spectacular pilot and a charismatic officer, but also seemed to know quite a lot about intelligence and codes.

He finally had enough. “Is this about me?” he asked in a carefully controlled slow voice. “Because you seem to be hinting at it, Poe. So why am I standing there wondering if I’ve become transparent?”

Poe’s head swivelled, looking caught for a brief moment between data and Finn and completely unable to tell who was what.

“It’s about me, huh,” said Finn, too loud, feeling his control give. “And you still don’t think you have to include me in this. Well, if that’s some strategy to get me to come with you, Poe, then you’re doing it wrong!”

He realised he was once again storming out only when he was at the door. And if it was ridiculous, well, it was too late to turn back or he’d make even more of a fool of himself.

Maybe Poe would run after him again.

And maybe he wouldn’t. And maybe Finn had broken that thing they’d just begun together, and that was probably for the best, since Poe was leaving anyway. And since it was Finn’s duty, to Rey, to the General, to the Resistance, even to Poe, not to.

There were people outside of the med building, just standing. Or standing guard? They didn’t look that friendly, but neither did they seem to aim for an encore of that little fight where Finn had _shown them_. He resumed walking, slowly. Calm. Unthreatening.

Three of them stepped out and went to stand in front of him. “Stormtrooper,” one of them said.

Finn sighed. That was something he’d have to address, sooner better than later, if he really wanted to stay here. He let himself show his uncertainty in a tentative smile.

“Yes,” he said. “I was a Stormtrooper. Some things I know, things with a blaster, or with my fists,” he added, touching his knuckles reflectively and wincing, “I know because of that training. And I know you see it. But I swear, I swear - first mission, I found out I wasn’t good at it.” He looked one of his opponents in the eye. “I didn’t kill for them. I couldn’t kill. Not villagers. Not innocents. So I – they saw it too, my superiors, they’d have – I had to run. Another thing I found out about myself that day, is that I’m good at running.”

Finn smiled dejectedly. “Yeah. I wanted to run from the Resistance for a while as well. ‘m probably not the best recruit you could dream of, really. But yeah. I was fucking lucky, and someone, someone incredible helped me. I ran away from the First Order, and if there’s something I know now, it’s that I want fucking _revenge_ from them.”

He nodded to the three men in front, smiled with his mouth, not with his eyes. “See. I’m not a Stormtrooper anymore. Quite the opposite.”

“You’re lying,” said the man who had already talked. “It’s impossible. Stormtroopers are conditioned from birth.”

“No,” said Finn, feeling a pang of something at his new knowledge. “Not in my case. Not quite from birth.”

“Not quite, who cares! Nobody gets away from the First Order like that.”

“Oh, really? What do you make of Poe Dameron, then?” Finn said, making sure to use Poe’s less intimate full name. “He got away. He damn well got away, because he’s a damn good pilot.”

“That’s the point. That’s the fucking point!” said a second man. “Dameron hasn’t been the same since then. You were after him! Everything was planned. You’re still after him, and we’re gonna make sure it stops and it stops now.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” said Finn. “I planned what, exactly? To get at one man in the Resistance, while making sure that a whole First Order base together with its major weapon got totalled by the very man I was after, and then I nearly died at the hand of Kylo Ren in the process? That’s ridiculous. I am not after Poe Dameron.”

Finn saw a few people nod in the crowd. Some that he knew, one or two from medbay and a tech who often meddled with the pilots. “He’s right,” someone said in the back. “That was a life-threatening lightsaber wound on his back. A damn big one. Not the kind that looks like a plan. And the – the new Jedi, Rey, she trusted him. I saw her in medbay.”

The crowd edge began to unravel, people talking and leaving in one and twos. But that small tight group in the front, some ten people, Finn saw, wouldn’t be so easily swayed.

“Oh, really?” said someone. In the dimming late afternoon light, his light hair and fair skin seemed to glow a little, and Finn thought he’d already seen him somewhere. “You’re not after Poe Dameron? After what Wexley saw, I’d doubt you’re telling the truth.”

Oh, thought Finn. That’s Suhail.

“Things happen at night,” said another voice. Damn it to the Galaxy’s edge, but that was that tentacled medic who had at stood at Poe’s side the other night. “Things happen at night when he’s sleeping and you’re there.”

“Sith,” someone whispered.

“I saved his life that night!” Finn yelled, knowing he was losing his control and unable to help it. “Hell, just ask Leia Organa! She’ll tell you! And,” he growled, looking straight at Suhail and feeling his grin become predatory, knowing he was about to let out something he’d better keep for himself. “Suhail, isn’t it? If you’re hinting at what Poe and I did in his X-Wing, then you guessed right. Yeah. In a private, very private and intimate way, Suhail, I _am_ after Poe Dameron and he’s fucking right after me.”

“He’s admitting it!” yelled Suhail.

“Stars, Suhail,” said a woman besides him. “You’re jealous, is all? Seems to me they’re after each other’s ass, nothing surprising with Dameron, huh.”

“Fucking hell,” answered Suhail. “Have you seen how Dameron is acting these days? Do you think that’s his normal way? He’s poisoning his mind, I tell you!”

The woman turned away. But the remaining group, what was left of it, seemed to have decided to close on Finn who began to check for blasters on hips and knives in hands. Nothing. Just angry, mostly harmless people. And another fistfight in sight.

It turned out Poe had run after him. He’d probably stood on a side in the growing darkness, probably, realised Finn, letting him deal with his own fights, and was now hastening in front. Skidding in the mud, even. Stumbling and splashing head first in a puddle. He looked up to Finn.

“Another fistfight?” he asked from his sitting place in the mud. “Didn’t BB-8 tell you to stick with me?”

“What,” said Finn. “In the mud?”

“You’d like that?” smiled Poe with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. He had flecks of mud all over him and looked plain ridiculous.

Finn extended a hand to him. “Mud’s not so attractive right now. Looks cold. Come up?”

Poe looked at the hand and his features twisted slightly. “You know what you’re doing, in front of those people?”

“I do,” said Finn.

Poe took the hand and went to stand right against Finn. They kept their grips on each other’s hands. “I’m sorry,” Poe whispered. “That I put you on the side like that with those files.”

“Hmm.”

“I guess – fuck, didn’t know my intel work had twisted me so bad already. Secret, you know?” Poe’s words were coming in a hurried whisper, low enough that they were for Finn’s ear alone, fast enough like they felt like a supplication. “I – or maybe I was afraid I’d give you false hopes. Maybe I hoped to keep it for me until I was sure of what I got, until I could sway you with them, ha. Finn, these data – I’ll tell you. Come inside?”

“All right,” said Finn, and he looked sideways to Suhail, and back into Poe’s gaze. He took his face in his hands. “Mine,” he said, loud and smiling, and kissed him on the mouth. “Mine”, worded Poe into Finn’s mouth, because Poe did not bow down so easily.

“Sith,” mumbled someone. “Spy.” “Sleeper,” said others. “He’ll kill us all.”

“Hero,” said Poe, loud enough, looking back over his shoulder. “He saved you all”.

And at that point Finn didn’t know anymore. Whether the number of people he’d managed to convince that day outweighed the smaller one of those who were still standing here mouthing horrors to him. Whether his duty to that group of angry people stood larger than his duty to this man who loved him, and whom he loved.

Maybe he was already choosing by following Poe back inside.

/

To Finn’s admittedly inexperienced ears, BB-8 had never sounded like that. He was still connected to the console and emitted a mechanical whirr, slightly irregular and shaky.

“BB-8!” said Poe. “You’re all right?”

He knelt down in front of the droid, opened a small panel, looked searchingly inside. “He’s loading files. Big ones, and he’s making sure at the same time that we’re not caught. Takes lots of memory. Hey, BB-8, you don’t run yourself down, uh? Keep enough for yourself.”

The beep BB-8 managed to send up wavered in the middle.

Poe patted him on his body. “You take care, buddy.”

“Is he okay?” asked Finn.

“For the moment, yes. So. The files, yeah, they’re about you, most of them. Everything Ackbar and Melakh got from you. Everything you told them, their recordings, their reports, everything they got out of it. Plus a few data about the First Order, their positions, mostly, what they’ve found of them. When I’ve left, I want to go find your past, Finn. Where you’re from. Who you were before the First Order took you. That woman from the dream. Or her memory. Your past. Your family. I want to give you back your name, Finn.”

Poe was still crouching at BB-8’s side and was looking at Finn with eyes that Finn had never seen to wide and had never felt more unable to read. Had he seen hope, or supplication, or even pity, he’d known how to react. But all he could perceive was a tremendous intensity.

He cleared his voice. “Is that so important for you, Poe?”

The intensity was still there as Poe rose slowly but stood where he was, seemingly not daring close the gap between him and Finn. “It is,” he said. “I want to see you whole, Finn. You’ve rejected so much from what you were told. You – you seem to make it all right, building yourself from memories that are but two months old, and digging from I don’t know where beliefs and morals that I’m astounded you managed to keep with you. But it frightens me, how fragile it could be. I don’t know how you can - I think – I don’t know if you really need it, you’re so strong. But I want to give you a base. Something to fall back on. Something, also, to tell to the face of those who only see the Stormtrooper and not the human.”

“And if my past – there wasn’t only a woman in the dream, Poe. Kylo Ren talked about a father, and what if you discover that father was very much on their side?”

“He’ll still be your father, and you can decide to let him go. Or maybe you’ll find something of him that still echoes in you nonetheless? After all, Luke Skywalker did find that in Vader. Or maybe we won’t find anything at all. From what Ren said, it feels like he wasn’t in your life for long.”

“Poe. My past, it’s not only those lost years before the First Order. My past isn’t only my family, I can’t erase twenty years of my life! I – I want to know about the First Order, sometimes. What they did to me. How they could. How they still do it to others.”

Something very soft and very pained passed in Poe’s gaze. “Maybe those two parts of your past will meet,” he said slowly. “Maybe I’ll have to put my hand on First Order data and files, too. Maybe what we’ve got here won’t be enough.”

“Don’t go looking only for my childhood, then. There were other children. Still are. Find about them, Poe.”

“Should _I_ find about them? Only me?” Poe’s voice broke a little on the last word and Finn’s heart broke in answer.

“What are your chances, Poe? _Our_ chances? I don’t even know where we could begin!”

Poe’s eyes lit. “We have a few leads, tiny ones. Your accent, for one thing.”

“But I don’t have any!” said Finn, and the defence went so deep inside him, drilled into him by conditioning.

“You don’t usually have. But I’ve noticed, well, recently, when you become very emotional. Like just now, outside, when they egged you on conditioning, for example. There’s a hint of something. And if there’s a hint, I’m betting everything I have that Ackbar’s people found it, recorded it, looked for everything they could make it tell. We’ll be looking for places, I think. Crossing data. Memories of worlds where you trained plotted together with the routes densities of First Order ships, that kind of things. Genetic data, too, because I’m quite sure Ackbar has run a panel about you. And we – we have that.”

Poe stopped, took in a breath and began to sing. His voice was higher than when talking and veiled, not very strong. The song, or rather the few phrases of it went haltingly, as if Poe were trying to paste fragments together. Sometimes, Finn knew, he did it wrong. He joined him on the last phrase, his own voice lower and unsure. Trying to make the song right.

“Yeah,” said Poe, smiling. “Lullabies are very much particular to places. So, Finn. Will you come with me?”

Finn looked into himself and found a terrible, immense yearning for what Poe had just promised him. It was mad, he knew. A lullaby and an accent to find one place, one, ha, family in the whole universe. A one- or two-men crusade against a multitude. He opened his mouth and was interrupted by what could only sound like a distress signal from BB-8, low, prolonged, dissonant.

“Fuck!” shouted Poe. “BB-8, buddy, stop! Are you -? Oh, fucking hell! He’s fallen into emergency saving mode. Full to the brim. We must find him a - BB-8, can you still roll?”

BB-8 rolled a little, his dome head falling on one side. Poe made a small sound between dismay and relief.

“What can I do?” asked Finn. “What must we find him?”

“A bigger computer,” said Poe. “Something out of BaseNet that he can connect to, which memory he can use. Where he can unload, and that’s an emergency, because that mode he’s on is eating at his energy resources and might damage him.” He sighed. Ran to his bed and retrieved a bag, stuffed in the most colourful of the Yavin hangings. Jogged to the refresher and swiped everything on the stand into the bag. Yanked a key out of his console.

“I thought I’d have more time,” he said. “But the only comp I can think of is the one in the ship I thought of stealing. And that means there’s no going back. You’re with me, Finn?”

“Can I – Are you really going to fly away at once?”

“In a few hours. Need BB-8 to get back to normal, need to have a look at the data, make a flight plan, get the ship as ready as I can. And get my own files in order for the guys here. But if you want to stay, you can’t get caught with me, Finn. Your position is already fragile enough as it is. Too dangerous to follow me to the ship.”

“I’ll –” Finn felt dizzy and out of breath. “I’ll. I’ll follow you to the ship. I think, I think even if there hadn’t been that emergency, I’d have. I want what you’re promising me. And, Poe. I want you.”

/

Getting out of medbay had been easy. The worry Poe felt for BB-8 looked and _was_ genuine, and they’d only had to say they were going to a place where Poe could try to fix him, or find help. And BB-8 had looked unsteady enough between them both that the staff had only urged them to go faster.

“So that’s it?” said Finn when Poe keyed them into a hangar far on the side. He eyed dubiously the ships crammed in there, wings jammed into tails and the ceiling near invisible, so numerous were the other ships forming a second layer hanging from above.

“Yeah. We’ll have to take the one in front, even though it’s not in the best shape, uh. Don’t quite like the look of these foils. But you’ll do,” he added, patting the underbelly of the nearest ship. “You’ll do.”

“Is that a freighter? It looks small.”

“Made to look like a freighter, yeah. Was one originally, mostly for in-system distribution, short quadrant routes, things like that. Now it’s a long-distance recon ship. Custom engines. Nice hyperdrive. Nothing like the Falcon, but fast. Good enough for two people, made so they don’t get mad with cabin fever on the second day.”

“There’s room for two people in that?”

“Sure. One of the holds got converted. Sleeping quarters and kitchen area are a tad cramped, but it’s good. And there’s a decent comp to treat data. Hope the whole of it is in reasonable shape, huh. BB-8, you’re holding okay?”

The droid let out another of his wavering bleeps. It sounded like a moan.

“Finn, let’s haul him in. I don’t think he can do it by himself right now.”

Poe keyed in a code and something hissed in the ship underbelly. The hatch groaned and opened.

“Good news,” smiled Poe. “Seems they didn’t revoke my access codes.”

“What? They could have? How would you have done?”

“I’d have tried a few passwords. Some of the pilots aren’t strict enough with that. Pava’s last, Gilm, I bet I can crack his codes in less than one minutes. But it’s better that way. Ready?”

BB-8 was heavier than he looked. Still, they hauled him in and Poe ran to a panel on the side of the pilot’s deck, switched on contacts and keyed in another code.

“All yours,” he said, turning to BB-8. “Plug yourself in.”

BB-8 rolled unsteadily to the wall and stayed there, whirring asthmatically.

“What’s he doing?” asked Finn, feeling his worry grow.

“Don’t know,” said Poe, looking more dismayed by the second. “BB-8, buddy, come on, plug in! Get that extension out! Fuck. BB-8. Listen to me. Do you hear me?”

BB-8 managed a faint whistle.

“Good. You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay. We’ll get you out of that. Can you open your panel at least? I don’t have the tools…”

Something clanged and a fissure appeared in the droid’s body. Poe got at it with his nails, groaned and rummaged in his bag, got out a small knife. Managed to open the panel.

“Finn? There should be a pneumatic shunter, a small one, in that storage unit over there. Can you get it here? Fast?”

Finn opened the panel and found himself facing a whole wall of exotic-looking tools. “Hum. Poe. I don’t know what a pneumatic shunter looks like!”

“What? You don’t – okay, small tool, elongate, blunt hollow metallic tip, let me see, the one with the red handle. No! The other one. Smaller. Yeah. Thanks.”

Poe began to explore BB-8’s insides in careful light touches with the shunter. Something hissed and Poe swore. “BB-8! You’ve got to shut off the sonic ward, I can’t move anything in there.”

Something clicked inside and Poe let out a small sigh of relief. Then a frustrated shout. “Dammit, I don’t have the right tools! Finn, can you give me a hand? We’re running out of time!” Poe, realised Finn with a jolt of fear, looked on the verge of panic. “BB-8? BB, come on, shut your thermal outcircuit, give us a few seconds more. Promise we’ll go fast.”

Finn crouched shoulder to shoulder with Poe. “What should I do?”

“Can you hold that in place? I need to reach behind that plate with the shunter, but those components here are fucking fragile and can’t be touched at all. Okay. Like that. Phew.”

He manually extracted a connexion and plugged it in the wall console. “Okay, BB. Can you deal by yourself? Shit. Oh shit. Finn, he’s unresponsive. Hey, BB-8. You’ll have to let the comp do it, huh?” He typed in a sequence and BB-8 began to whirr. Slowly and irregularly at first, but Poe exhaled, wiped his forehead and smiled.

“He’s good?” asked Finn.

“He’ll be. I initiated the uploading sequence and he’s taking it up by himself now, thank the Force. Good work, BB-8. Good work. You’ll be yourself in a few minutes now.”

“Good work,” echoed Finn with a large, relieved smile.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“When we’ve got more time, remind me to show you the basics of droid maintenance. Might be useful. And I’ll drill you for the takeoff and landing sequences of that ship. You take up things fast, and I might not always be around. Or well enough, uh?”

“Poe, you realise I don’t know the first thing about any of that?”

“Hey. Never too late to learn, soldier. We’ll be by ourselves up there, partners, uh? In more ways than one.” He stole a brief kiss and, to Finn’s wonder and astonishment, blushed. “And now I have to run the checkup. I’m quite sure the ship hasn’t been fuelled, too. Let me see. We need to see what basic supplies are stored in, food, medicals, everything. Storage unit is down there, med aisle in the back. Can you do it?”

“Sure.”

/

Getting a ship ready for flight involved more than switching contacts at the pilot’s seat, Finn was beginning to realise. Poe had been running around the freighter for the best of an hour, hauling cables and checking out seals, and on one occasion banging on a misaligned pulse reactor with a large club-like tool. Slowly, the ship was getting back to life, not in the specular and slightly terrifying burst of energy Finn had witnessed with the Falcon, but gradually, one engine after another rumbling low, rows after rows of dials and screens lighting up on the commands.

Poe, who had finally come back to the pilot’s seat, turned his head and smiled. “See? No red on the console, well, nothing major. She needs a light, soft hand, this ship, but she seems to be a good one. This here, it’s the fuel level. We’ll be good in an hour, give or take. Here are the commands for the take-off engines, atmosphere ones. Ignition’s here. Here’s the secondary unit, that’s the one we’re running at present. You? How’s it going?”

“Good food stores, we’ve got enough synthetic portions and emergency ration to hold for a comfortable year. Nothing fresh, of course. Oh, come on, Poe, that’s not the end of the world. They’ve even got pink paste in there! Water is good. Med supplies, that’s another story. Very low, no bacta, the monitoring unit seems out of order. I don’t like that, Poe. Especially with, with what you did to your heart, I’d feel better if we could hook you to something when – when you sleep.”

“Hm. Anyway we can’t leave without meds. Know what, I’m sure we can scavenge enough from the other ships. I’ll key them open, and you can take what you want while I finish everything here, okay?”

“Won’t you set off an alarm if you key everything on at twenty-two standards thirty?”

“I’ll enter the maintenance code, so at least it won’t trigger automated alarms. But if someone checks in and sees my name, or any other’s that’s not on schedule, yeah. Not good. We might get in trouble. So the faster we can go, the better, uh?”

“All right.”

“Hey, Finn.”

“What?”

“You know, nobody saw you here. If you – you can still decide to stay at the base. If, if you want. Maybe you can keep BB-8 with you, say I left and you don’t know where? Let them see you as separate from me?” He cleared his throat. “Finn, I realise that I’m taking you off from the first place where people, well, at least some of them, where they showed you kindness, or even only just fairness. You could make yourself a place in the Resistance, uh? You did well handling the crowd this afternoon. What I mean, I mean, I don’t want to force you into a life of running. Going like that, we’ll get hunted. They’ll think all those rumours about you were true. They’ll say you turned me. Finn, you can still go back, uh?”

“Shit, Poe. Do you really have to make it even harder? I’m staying with you here. I’ll at least make sure everything’s ready to go. Don’t – don’t make me hesitate. Please.”

“I – okay. As long as we’re not buckling ourselves for takeoff, you know you have a choice, Finn.”

“Poe…” Finn heard the catch in his voice, made himself take in a shuddering breath. “I’ll go find the med supplies.”

/

In the cockpit, Poe was working quietly, typing in long strings of text, assembling maps and diagrams. His own files, getting cleaned up and organised for other eyes to understand his data. Unofficial hyperspace routes he’d explored and used with his squadrons, areas of frequent encounters with First Order crafts, a few leads he’d discovered but hadn’t got the time to follow, hard facts, theories, opinions, vague ideas. Everything he thought might come to use.

He felt cold, guilty. Grieving.

He wondered if he should leave a letter of explanation with it. Something repeating what he’d already told to Leia? With better, more convincing words if he could? Something exonerating Finn, if he finally decided to come? A solemn oath that he wasn’t defecting to the First Order? But nobody, shown the facts of his escape, would believe any of that. Maybe he could just leave personal messages for those he cared for. Assuring them of – of what. Of the love, trust, regrets of a man they’d think a traitor?

Behind him, Finn was setting his third load of med supplies in order. Poe put a last polish to his data, decided against any personal last words, set a delay of three hours before automated sending and hit confirm. He stood up.

“Going out, gotta set another fuel load,” he shouted.

Fuel was loading and he went to stand at the door of the hangar, taking in the haloes of the track lights in the wet mist, the muffled noises of the base going to sleep, the smell of oil and wet duracrete and swamp. It gripped at his heart.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it!” said a voice Poe only knew too well from just behind his shoulder.

Poe caught Suhail by his collar and dragged him in the relative safety of the hangar.

“Stormtrooper tuned you,” spat Suhail. “I knew it. I was on duty tonight, saw you codes on my screen. Would have known them anywhere. You thought you could run off, Dameron? Deserting? Selling us to the enemy? What secrets are you taking with you?”

 _Deserter_. The word hit him like a physical punch. He looked down, felt despair engulf him. “Listen, Suhail,” he tried. “I’m – yeah, I’m trying to run away. But what good was there in me staying here, grounded forever? Others ran before me, for more flimsy reasons. I’m not, not in any way going to betray anything to anyone. I swear it.”

“Fucking hell, Poe, how dumb do you think I am? I had to run here as soon as I saw, and I knew, I knew I’d find your whore of a double agent with you, and as sure as rain I saw him there, and you still maintain you’re no traitor?”

Poe would never have been able to say what he felt the strongest between relief at Suhail letting out that he’d come by himself, rage at hearing him call Finn a whore, and shame, deep shame at knowing he’d brought this on himself with his actions and behaviour towards Suhail.

“Suhail,” he finally said, “please, please. I’m sorry that I didn’t, couldn’t give you what you wanted. I’m fucking sorry I let you believe that we could go back to what we had, that day in the hangar. I’m so fucking sorry, I – I never should have. Done that with you. Truth is, I’m in love with Finn. Already was. I’m sorry. Suhail, you trusted me once. You know me. Please, believe me when I say Finn’s no spy. Fuck, if anything, it’s me who’s been trying to turn him, to get him to run with me! And it’s been hard, fucking hard. The man’s got duty drilled into him so deep. I don’t know how he does it. He’s been shot at, insulted, threatened, beaten down, and he still seems to think he owes to the people here, or to the Resistance!”

“Sure,” said Suhail, grimacing. “And I’m the head of the Jedi Council. He got you in so deep you don’t even realise it anymore, Poe! That’s it. I’m calling security.”

Suhail had a comm link on his hip, Poe realised. He put a hand on it. “Please, Suhail. I – I don’t want to hurt you. More than I already did. We had good times. You – our time together, it was good. Fun. I – fuck, I didn’t realise you felt so strongly about it. Don’t. Don’t make me –”

Suhail struggled to wrench his comm from Poe’s grip, kicking and wriggling and landing a hard hit on his jaw. Poe was only trying to immobilise him, guilt making him sluggish and hesitant to return the punches.

Suddenly, Suhail grunted and fell down. Finn bent down to check Suhail’s pulse and stood back up, a wrench in hand. “Hell, Poe, what were you thinking, talking with that little shit? Being sent down for the count, that’s all he deserves.”

“Yeah,” said Poe, feeling his jaw. “Guess so. It was hard to move against him, though. How he is now, it’s my fault. I used him, because he wasn’t – because I’m an asshole, sometimes.”

“Yeah. You’ve been.”

“I knew what I was doing would make him hope, somehow. I – I didn’t care. I didn’t see how I was changing him. Once, he was a good friend, you know? Fun. Carefree.”

“A friend? Nothing more?”

“Finn, I swear. Never more. Maybe less. We fucked, yeah. The last of a long series. I – I know you know. But I – I thought that was the only thing between us, the sex. When he left, I didn’t miss him.”

“Yeah. You know what I think? You might have had fun with him once. And you’ve fucked up. Badly. But how he is now, he’s always been. What was that word you used, the other day? Mother fucker? He’s a motherfucker, that one. Always stirring shit. Hiding behind others. Not caring if he harms you, or me, if that gets him what he wants.”

“Ah. Yeah. Never was much hindered by his morals, for sure. I – liked that in him, long ago. I’m sorry you heard him. Thanks for intervening, Finn.”

“My fucking pleasure, Poe.”

“Yeah” Poe looked down at an unconscious Suhail. “And that’s another thing people will retain against us when they find him.”

“I guess. Ah. That’s it, huh? I’ve been seen.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Well, maybe I was always going with you.”

Poe closed the last step separating him from Finn and brought their foreheads together. They stood like that for long seconds, and he hoped that all his shame, his thanks, his hopes and his love somewhat went to Finn.

“Well,” said Finn. “We’d better get ready before he wakes up, huh?”

/

Finn was done with the stores and was about to join Poe in the cockpit when Suhail, slumped against a wall in the med aisle, stirred and groaned. Finn envisioned hitting him back to sleep – tempting, but possibly causing lasting damages, which was – well, tempting again, but not something he wanted on his conscience. There were dirty rags in a corner, which he used to bind and gag him.

“Suhail’s awake,” he went to tell Poe. “We need to leave soon.”

“BB-8 wants to go with us,” said Poe, looking deeply dismayed.

“Wasn’t that the plan? That’s not a good thing?”

“He belongs to the Resistance. Literally. I don’t have the right to take him with me. BB-8, if they catch you back, that’s a memory wipe for you, you know that?”

“Won’t they bring him to trial?”

“With droids, that’s - complicated. What’s his, what was me meddling with his programming – who he is, huh. They’d probably decide to get him back to his core.”

“But that’s worse than recond!”

“Fuck yeah, it is. You hear Finn, BB-8?”

Finn thought he was beginning to catch the meaning of basic binary. Agreement, denegation – he’d acquainted himself, at least, with BB-8’s particular way of modulating that. But the long, tone wavering, complex sequence of all kind of whistling sounds was far above his competence. He looked at Poe.

“He’s asking me if I think he’s a sentient being. And yes, I do, BB-8, of course I do! Yes, I’m aware it should mean you can decide by yourself. Not everyone thinks that, though. Even in the Resistance. I’m feeling responsible, BB. I oriented your programming this way. So that you could think independently. So you could understand about friends.”

BB-8 whistled indignantly.

“Yes. Yes, I know it means _you_ choose to be that way! Dammit, BB-8, I want you to _continue_ being yourself! You’re my friend, too! BB-8, we’ve got the files in this comp and contrary to what you seem to think, I perfectly can program a route and deal with the ship without you.”

The droid turned to Finn and emitted the most pitiful moan Finn had ever heard.

“You let me choose,” said Finn. “And we shouldn’t wait too long here.”

Poe looked at them both and smiled slowly. “I’m outnumbered, huh? A Finn and BB-8 alliance. Ah. If we’re caught I’ll say I lied to you. You’ll – if you can’t, you’ll just remain silent, uh? Do you need a direct order to do so? All right. If you’re caught, remain silent about the reasons you left. That’s an order, and it’s important to me. Tell the truth, BB, I’m glad you want to come. I’m proud you find us worth it, buddy. Help me with the route? That’s the last thing remaining.”

“So, where are we going?” asked Finn.

“Ultimately, I think we’re headed to the Western reaches. Maybe even further in the north-west to the unknown regions. Didn’t have the time to give a real go at Ackbar’s files right now, but what I can see after a first look is that First Order sightings are denser there. It doesn’t feel like they have a baseworld, you know, Finn? More like a net of large ships, and - you used to move a lot when you were younger, Finn, didn’t you? Experienced a huge diversity of harsh environments?”

“Lots of different places, yes. Harsh? Wouldn’t know. Harsher than here, for sure.”

“Yeah. They seem to have used a whole lot of worlds, uncomfortable ones, as training camps. And probably others to scavenge in for supplies and for, for people, uh. For children. Babies.”

“You said ultimately? To the Western Reaches?”

“Yeah. We’ll need to restock at some point, for fuel, and I don’t want to live on synth stuff forever. Oh, and if anyone tries to make me eat an emergency ration bar outside of dire emergencies, I’ll stuff it in their ass first. Or in their reloading port, BB-8. And, well, we need to make a living somehow. That ship can still work as a freighter. We’ll try a few contacts, find cargoes that interest the Western Reaches, uh? Things not completely legal. Small and costly. That means Outer Rim, Southern quadrant, BB-8. We’ll go along the Lipsec Run. For one thing, I know Epataq Qalakkapa is looking for MD-series motherboards, and she’s not ready to pay the price to get them legally. Resistance snatched a batch of them under her nose reccently.” He smiled, sadly, and slapped Finn’s arm. “Han would be proud of us, Finn.”

“How do you know about all of that, the computer hacking, the smuggling contacts, everything? Is that normal for a Resistance pilot?”

“Ah. I’ve been doing intel work sometimes, Finn. Back when Leia trusted me. Turned out I’m not so great at it, uh, with what happened on Jakku. Well. Time to buckle up, BB-8 will be done with the route in a few. I’ll key the remote for hangar opening and then we’re up. What would you rather do, Finn? You can sit on the co-pilot seat and have a look at what I do, or you can take the gunner’s seat. I – I’d rather we’d not shoot on friends, but there will be a chase, probably. And it’s your life in the balance.”

“There will be a chase?”

“None of these ships are scheduled to fly and I have to use my ID to open the hangar. Now _that_ will set off alarms. If we’re lucky, the guys on shift won’t react fast enough and we’ll enter hyperspace before they can get up. If we’re not, well. That’s one of the reasons why I trained on unusual ships at the simulator recently.”

Finn nodded. “I’ll seat co-pilot. I don’t want to shoot Resistance pilots either.”

“Good. One thing left. I dump Suhail or you dump Suhail?”

“Let’s do it together?”

“Great.”

/

Takeoff was chaos. The hangar door had opened with Poe’s codes but they had triggered something and the sirens were already blaring as they rolled to position on the nearest track. Some automated safeguard had transmitted a signal to the ship, locking down the takeoff engines, and Poe had needed to let the ground commands into Finn’s hands while he dug in the wiring and finally shut off the offending circuit. Precious minutes lost.

And big engines would never completely offset an unwieldy shape in atmosphere. Their ascent was slow, fucking slow and after entirely too many seconds Poe could still get a clear view of the base, of the violent light of the emergency projectors and the small, numerous, orange-clad shapes that were milling around the Starfighters. His squadrons wouldn’t be on nightshift right now, he knew. That would make the pilots Karé’s, or Iolo’s. Not good.

“Brace yourself, Finn!” he shouted over the noise of the overworked engines. “BB-8, you’re secure? We’re still too low, but I’m going to switch on the deep space thrust. Ship’s going to shake! A lot!”

“What?” yelled Finn. “What does it means, we’re too low?”

“That we can break the ship! And that it’s going to be too warm in here in a few! But the alternative is getting caught by all these fighters down there!”

“You’re mad?”

Poe realised he was grinning big. “Yeah! That’s why they can’t follow me! Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle!”

The ship gave a disgusting sideways lurch when he switched the pulse and then a formidable jolt. Temperature went up at once in the cockpit but their speed was good and the reinforced structure was holding well. “Woohoo!” yelled Poe. “We’re going up! Hyperdrive soon!”

“It’s fucking boiling in here! What are you going to do about it?”

“Don’t worry! We’ll be out of atmosphere soon enough and then it’ll regulate by itself! Shed the jacket, Finn, you look good in a tee!”

“You’re a desperate case!” Finn was still howling over the screeching engines but he was smiling, too.

“But I’m the best desperate case!” Poe grinned even wider, then abruptly didn’t. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“We’re not alone! There’s a formation up there, look at the radar. On our four, high. Coming down fast on us. Resistance fighting squadron, by the look of it.”

Transmission spat a burst of static. Poe took the comm.

“Snap?” he asked, looking at the ID on his screen. “You’ve been promoted? What are you doing here at that hour?”

“You left a big hole when you got grounded Dameron. And you’ll be leaving an even bigger one when we get you down for a trial. Want to know why I’m up? Training, I told them. Seems my instincts about you were right, huh.”

Poe looked around. They were out of atmosphere at least, and might have the range for hyperdrive, if only he managed to lose a few of these fighters behind him. He tested his speed – Wexley followed easily.

“Don’t play the fool with me, Dameron. We’ve got you covered. Karé and Pava are joining us. Go down nicely and nobody gets hurts.”

“I won’t, Snap.”

“Poe?” New voice. Karé’s. Her’s and Pava’s ID flashed together on the radar, Pava in front with four other fighters and Karé’s squadron flanking him on both sides.

“So you’re all there for me,” said Poe.

“Poe, fucking hell,” said Karé. “I’ve known you for so long. I’d never have thought you could do that.”

“Goes to show you never can tell,” said Poe, his throat tight.

“The General has given orders. She says we’re to take you alive. The Stormtrooper, too. If possible. I’ve never seen her like that. She looks _old_ , you fucker. _Broken_. I’ve always thought you liked her, really liked her. So don’t do anything dumb, huh? Like make us shoot you, get yourself killed? You’ve played, you’ve lost. Get down, Poe.”

“Already told you, I won’t. What are you going to do with Finn?”

“For you, it’s a trial. You might plead madness, extreme stress, and they’ll take your past deeds into account. It might not be so bad, uh? For the Stormtrooper – they’ll interrogate him for real, this time. Poe, you can’t ask anyone to be nice about him, you realise that?”

“Finn’s not a Stormtrooper. Karé, you can think whatever you want about me but he’s not a Stormtrooper, not a spy. He followed me. I asked him to. For love. He wanted to stay with you, stay with the Resistance. Believe me, please. I won't go down, I can’t, but I might eject him. Only if you promise you get him down alive. And get the higher ups to listen to what he’s got to say. Karé?”

In the corner of his eye, Poe saw Finn unbuckle himself and jump out of the co-pilot’s seat. “Damn you, Poe,” Finn yelled. “You don’t get to decide for me! I fucking stay with you.”

“Well,” said Poe, trying to control the shaking in his voice. “Seems getting Finn back isn’t an option anymore.” He switched off comm. “Finn, I’m going to try something and they might shoot us dead. You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Buckle up.”

Poe tilted the ship sideways and thrust everything forward, aiming for the gap between Pava and her first follower – not the best, that one. But a freighter wasn’t a Starfighter and Pava was not so green. She slid in front of him in no time.

“Hey, Dameron,” said Pava, coming in on the comm. “I know you’re the best pilot, but our ships are better. You wouldn't dare your usual moves with that clunker, huh? We’ve got you cornered. Fuck, Poe. I used to have your six but right now I’m in front. And if you think of escaping up, we know you well. Wexley’s there. And Iolo and Karé are covering your sides.”

Poe smiled. “She’s giving us the escape plan,” he said privately to Finn. “I knew she was trustworthy, my Jess.”

“What?”

“She’s just confirmed nobody covers the rear, and she’s telling the others I can’t manoeuver well enough for it to matter. But she does know my moves well, and she knows my version of the L’ullo stand begins with a pulse of the counterthrusters and everything backwards.”

“I’ve heard about that. The pilots told me. But you had a Republic Starfighter, Poe. One of the best ships! Not a clunker like that, as Pava just said!”

Finn was clutching his seat in a dead grip, Poe saw. He’d broken in a cold sweat and was breathing fast and hard. Poe made himself smile reassuringly, freed a hand to press Finn’s briefly. “Pava’s saying that for the show. She’s seen my simulator results. I can do it, Finn.”

“Without damage?”

“We’ll see.”

Finn took in a large breath and put his hand on Poe’s thigh. “Talk to Leia,” he said, his eyes searching Poe’s pleadingly.

“Again?”

“Please. Poe, do it for me. Try it. Trust me. If you’re not completely sure of your manoeuver, try it.”

Poe sighed. “We’re losing time, Finn. More ships might come.”

“Poe, please. I know – I think I know what to say.”

“Okay, Finn. For you.”

He switched the comm on a private channel. “Jess? Poe speaking. Can you get the General through? Privately?”

“You’re mad, Dameron. You’re mad. And you’re lucky that I owe you. The others, they say you’ve turned traitor. I don’t think so. Don’t make me wrong, huh?”

“I’m probably mad, Pava. But you’re right, I’m not a traitor. Get me Leia?”

“Poe Dameron!” yelled a voice, Leia Organa’s broken, hoarse voice. “By the seven hells of the Khll’la black holes, if that’s another creative way of getting yourself killed I’m going to resuscitate you myself to have the pleasure to kill you again!”

“Leia,” began Poe. “I can assure –”

“And you’ve taken Finn into this with you! Fucking hell of a Khimaz whoreson, Poe, he saves your life at least twice and that’s the way you thank him! By getting him neck deep in that damn mess! I don’t even know if I can save him if he manages to get down alive right now, you dumbfuck.”

“Stars,” said Finn, looking slightly in awe. “I didn’t know Leia Organa could swear like that.”

“Didn’t know either,” mumbled Poe. “Well? What do I say?”

Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob came from the other side of the comm. “Fucking hell, Poe,” whispered the General. “If you’ve changed side, I’ll tell you this. Right now, every code, every plan, everything you think you know has been changed. You’ll bring nothing of value to any new friends of yours. Oh, Poe. I won’t say you felt like a son to me because that would be an insult, but I liked you. I liked you a lot, I thought I could trust you with my life, with the future of the Resistance. You used to be reliable, had a good judgement. And now. What did he do to you, Poe, what did my _son_ to you that you act so erratically? That you’re making everyone think you’ve turned? Did you, Poe? Did he do that to you?”

Poe made a small, resigned sign to Finn, who nodded. “I’ve already told you,” Poe said in the comm, trying to will his voice into firmness. “I’ll tell you again. Can you guarantee me this is private? Nobody around you?”

“I’ve made the others get out,” said Leia. “And I’ve told the squadrons to hold. So, Poe?”

“So. Kylo Ren, yeah. Remember? I told you he reached to me in my nightmares. Or I reach to him. You seem to believe in Force bonds born of love, huh? Then why don’t you believe in the other sort? Bindings born of torture and terror? Because that’s what it is. He dug into my mind and he made his nest there.”

“Does he hold you, Poe? Did he make a sleeper out of you? Is that why you hacked Main Comp?”

“Fucking hell, Leia, no! I told you. He comes in my nightmares, really comes. And every night, he tries to follow the bond, gets closer at knowing where I am. If I stay at the base, he’ll find us all. Unaware. Leia, I’d have died rather than let him know, but you weren’t even letting me use that way out. Let me get away, give me a chance, now.”

“By the Force, this, again! What I see is that he broke you. It’s so plain. So horribly sad. Your mind’s still in that torture room, isn’t it? With him? And you can’t get out, and all you can think of is trying to escape, in life or, or in death. Stars. We really should have locked you up in that high security ward. Get down, Poe. Let Finn go. Let us try to help you. Please.”

“Dammit, Leia! Why don’t you believe me! What can I say to make you understand! It’s your life that’s at stake, it the Resistance!” His howl was so wild that it saturated the comm.

“Poe,” said Finn. “Calm down. Tell her about the dog.”

Poe felt like he’d been doused in cold water. Yes. Yes, of course.

“Listen, Leia,” he tried again. “You think I’m hearing voices, huh? The not real kind? Well. Here’s a story. Before Ben left, you had a dog. Big, scary-looking, supposed to have been an attack dog, only he was nice. Don’t know whether Ben liked him or not but one day when Chewbacca was there the dog had an epilepsy attack and Ben didn’t like that at all. Want to know how I know? Because Kylo Ren compared Finn to that dog. In a nightmare. By the way, the epilepsy was because the dog resisted a Force suggestion to attack Chewbacca. Come on, General, I wouldn’t have known about that before, huh? I never visited your house, saw Ben only a couple of times.”

The comm remained silent.

“Oh, and Kylo Ren is allergic to cheese. Majorly. We’re talking of physical reaction to the idea of cheese here. I know it because it made him get out of my head, in a nightmare that didn’t end so bad.”

“Oh by the Force,” came finally Leia’s voice, so, so faint. “Force. I – I felt that Force suggestion to Yoda, I mean to the dog, that was his name, that day. So long ago. That was what made me decide Ben had to go to Luke. Poe. By the Force, Poe! You’ve endured his attacks since Jakku? All by yourself? And you held?”

The relief at Leia finally believing him was so strong it made Poe dizzy. He turned his head to Finn whose answering smile looked distinctively wobbly. “Not all by myself,” he answered. “I had my pills at first to stun myself out. And Finn afterwards, and Rey, sometimes, though the bond is through Finn and much fainter. But I’ll break, sooner or later. And I really don’t want to take the Resistance down with me.”

“Poe, get down. We’ll find a way to help you.”

“Can you teach me how to hold Kylo Ren off? Did you study the Force enough for that?”

“I don’t know. Hate to tell you that, Poe, but I don’t know. I’d never heard of such a thing before, and the fact that you feel, well, weak when you use the Force is not making me –”

“Why are you stopping, General? You’re not feeling hopeful, that’s what you were about to say? Well. Will you let me drug myself until I don’t dream at all, then?”

“That would be suicide. I can’t let you do that!”

“Then we’re back to my plan. Let me go, Leia. The Resistance can’t risk it.”

“Aren’t you a bit self-centered, Poe? The Resistance could fail in many ways. We’re catching spies all the time, the First Order is always trying to infiltrate our ranks. Should we stop enlisting recruits because of that?”

“Are you willing to take that chance with me? Kylo Ren could fall on us just like that. No warning if I don’t wake up. I don’t want that. _I’m_ not taking that chance.”

“No,” whispered Leia. “You’re right. Go to Luke, Poe. He might know what to do.”

“I’ve thought of that. But that would be worse, wouldn’t it? If I brought the First Order to Luke and Rey? No. You’ve got to let me go, Leia, everyone must, and I’ve got to let everyone believe I defected. It could make my life, well, Finn’s and mine, marginally easier if the First Order knows you think I betrayed you. They’ll think I don’t hold anything of current value anymore.”

“We’d have to move the base again.”

“You would. I’d sleep better at night, too, pun very much intended. Feels like Ren can sense my location, not really read it in my mind, but if he does read my thoughts, well. I’d feel better if I didn’t have anything to betray.”

“Dammit, Poe, stop being so heroic! I hate that. I should climb up there with you and help you with that fight, and instead I’m stuck here with idiots of Captison magnitude, plotting how to cut you clear from everything you’ve always believed in. Dammit, I hate that.”

“I’m sorry, General.”

“ _You’re_ sorry? Poe, I know it’s breaking your heart. Tell me you’ve got a plan, at least. Tell me you’ve got some hope at deflecting my son. I’ll – I can’t stand it, knowing you both will be somewhere I don’t know, alone and fighting him without anyone to help.”

“Against Ren, I don’t know. At least he won’t have anything of value to take from me. We’ll move. We’ll occupy him for a while, maybe. But we have a goal, yeah. Finn, you want to tell her?”

Finn nodded, took the comm. “Hello, General.”

“Finn, my boy.”

“We’re after Stormtroopers’ past. Mine, yeah. Others’ too, I hope. I – I think I need to know that I’m not so alone. That I wasn’t a lonely glitch in the First Order program. Also – there were a few things Kylo Ren let escape, they give us hope of finding my family.”

“Stars, Finn. Poe’s idea, or yours? No, never mind. It’s completely mad, but – I kind of love that you’d get at the First Order like that. Through love, really. Hope. The wish to find and save lives. It’s damn dangerous too, of course. Pava, you’ve heard?”

Pava’s voice came back to the comm. “Yes, Ma’am, I’ve heard. Couldn’t help it, my ship relayed through. If I may give an opinion, I believe them. And I think their plan is up to Dameron’s best level of madness. Which means you can do it, you loons.”

“Lieutenant Pava,” said the General. “Since we seem to agree, would you mind being their contact? Unofficial, will have to deny everything if you’re caught, as usual, of course.”

“Of course, General. Won’t mind at all. Poe, I suppose you’re going to take up smuggling?”

“Epataq Qalakkapa. She needs MD motherboards. Give me one week, then meet at Wadi III’s moon?”

“What? Dameron, the music there, fuck!”

“Pava, I’ve got an escape to make, right now. So let me decide the place and let me go. General – Leia.”

“Poe. Finn. Good luck. The Force be with you.”

“Yeah. Pava, you know how I’m going to leave. Give me a wide berth, huh? I might do it a bit slow.”

“Sure. Watching a freighter disengage like that will be interesting, even in slow motion. Great to see you in space again, Commander. Bye, Finn. Take care.”

“Thanks, Jess. See you. Want the comm, Finn?”

Finn nodded, took the comm. “Bye, Pava. General, ma’am? Thank you for believing us. Good luck.”

“Your move, Poe-boy,” said Pava.

“Watch it, girl,” grinned Poe. He switched off the comm, went on for Finn. “I’ll do it as smooth as I can. Slow. See, with an X-Wing, it’s not such a complicated move because of the wide angle the jets can take. With that thing, I can’t turn the thrusters backwards, so I’ll use the steering pulses on the side and add deflectors to the main to get a better angle. They’re not supposed to do that, so it will work for a few seconds and then the deflectors panels will begin to melt. Enough for us to get the necessary distance for hyperspace.” Finn’s hands were beginning to tense again on the seat and Poe smiled. “They’ll do, soldier, don’t worry. It only means we’ll have to stop in orbit somewhere and I’ll find myself with a repair session in space. An easy one.”

Finn nodded but his hands kept their death grip on the seat.

“Ready? Want to initiate the move? Those two handles get the deflectors down. Pull them all backwards at my signal. Let’s say you put your hands on them first, then pull when I say go. Don’t mind the alarm, and keep them down. Might need some strength.”

“How will I know I have to stop?”

“Huh? Easy. When they don’t resist anymore, because the deflectors are shot. But we’ll be in hyperdrive by then.” He grinned wide. “I hope. Okay, Finn. Hands on handles.”

It worked. Finn was obviously still shaken, but his concentration overrode his fear. “Ready? Go!”

Finn pulled and brought all his weight on the resisting handles. In the blaring alarm noise, Poe slammed on the main jet and gradually pushed back with the steering pulses, the ship gaining speed backwards. Karé’s curse in the comm was a wonderfully creative one, and was soon covered with shouts and orders from all the pilots. Pava, who could have limited his distance by moving forward, reacted with a studied delay, and Poe saw the moment when hyperspace became possible.

“Hyperdrive!” he shouted, and switched it on.

Finn’s body suddenly lurched downards as the handles gave way, and he pushed himself back upright. “Woohooo!” he yelled as the stars around them began to distort. “We made it, Poe. We made it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was even looonger than the previous chapters. Ouch. Thanks for reading until the end! Maybe I shouldn't write between 10pm and 3 am? I hope it stills feel coherent.
> 
> Please tell me! I love your comments :)
> 
> And once again I'm using this place to advertise for my fanart... Give it a try if you're interested, and let me know what you think!  
> [Finn sketch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5913346)  
> [Poe sketch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5935303)  
> [Very smuty and NSFW Finn/Poe as an illustration to Deputychairman's fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5976556)
> 
> Oh, and nearly forgot. Brand new tumblr by there : [la-tarasque](http://la-tarasque.tumblr.com/) Still feeling a bit woozy with all this gifs, but I'm learning! Join me?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at me trying to give them a little time for fluff and failing miserably.  
> Though there is fluff. Fluffy angst?
> 
> And some Rey.

Rey never would have thought she'd miss the dry air and the sand of Jakku. But there it was. The ocean was as inhuman and hostile as the dunes, and it was _flat_. So flat. The wind blew in wet squalls that slapped her face, so different from the whistling hot gusts on sand of – of what had never been home but what she was beginning to long for nonetheless. Here, the  noise came from the rain, a patter on the roof or big splashes on the windows, and the wind never howled with the same voice. In her mouth, the salt of the ocean tasted like blood.

She turned and tossed on her admittedly soft and comfortable bed, chasing sleep.

The crash and swoosh of the waves was everywhere. On the shore of that too-small island. Echoing in the large underground chambers of the Jedi temple. In Chewbacca’s howls from where he had entrenched himself in the Falcon, still mourning Han. In Luke’s distant, closed mind.

Maybe that was why she hated the ocean so much. She’d felt so alone for so long on Jakku in the middle of so many people. So she’d come here hoping for connexions, human warmth, hoping, even for some tidings on her lost family. But Chewbacca was in mourning, D2-R2 only spoke to Luke, and Luke was – meditating.

He should have howled and raged against the First Order and how it had just snuffed off the life of a whole system. He should have held Kylo Ren responsible, should have shared her disgust and despair and deep hate. He should be grieving. Crying for Han, who had been one of his oldest, dearest friends, or so were the legends telling. He should be longing for the love and the comfort of his sister – of his last remaining family.

The rage, the grief, the longing and the love, they all were there, of course they were. But they felt like the foam on the shore, washed away by the next wave. Luke meditated and let an ocean of serenity wash away all strength in his emotions. And then he smiled at Rey and instructed her in the ways of the Force, polite, kind, soft. Distant.

The Force. It felt like remembering something more than learning, and from Luke’s sometimes hints, it was probably partly true. She’d been instructed before, like some sort of baby Jedi. She knew she was strong with it and was getting stronger everyday, stronger than Luke possibly, at least more at ease with practical accomplishments – less inhibited, not inhibited enough, Luke was implying. But what use was it, that thing that came with so many warnings, don’t use it in anger, don’t use it to harm, don’t use it for power, remove yourself, be aware, think again, don’t? She missed flying. Flying never sent you tumbling down to the Dark Side. Flying was _helpful_. She missed her hands in motor oil and her mind caught into the challenge of making an engine work. She missed the few days where she’d felt, really felt, people around her. She longed for Leia’s fierce grief for Han, for Finn’s unconditional friendship, even for Poe’s admiration and reluctant companionship.

Stars, she missed _them_! Them, Finn and Poe. Her friends. The longing was so raw and so intense it was maybe something else, maybe, if she was honest with herself, something like jealously.

Yes. They had each other now and she wanted that for herself. Not everything, no. The sex, the physicality of it, the frightening intimacy, they could keep it. Actually, she sincerely hoped they’d learn to keep it to themselves and not broadcast it through the Force for everyone to feel – or maybe just for her to feel. But the way they stood for each other, the way they _cared_ , the way their signature in the Force was beginning to feel so entwined it was Finn-Poe she felt, Force, she yearned for it so hard. So hard.

She realised she was crying in her pillow. Made herself stop, using the soothing exercises Luke had shown her. Hated herself for it, feared she was beginning to damper her emotions in that way Luke only seemed too adept. Breathed, deep, and finally fell asleep.

/

You’re alright, someone conveyed nearly at once in her dream. It’s alright, Rey, we’re here for you.

Poe. Poe, which was surprising, since usually Finn was the one able to make the connexion. Poe, and it was even more surprising because it wasn’t a call for help and there was no pain nor panic nor terror.

He felt steady in her dream, this Poe who wasn’t under Kylo Ren’s attack. Steady and commanding and kind and warm and this was, she realised, the way he projected himself to others, the way, maybe, the genuine Poe would have been if a madman hadn’t begun regularly violating his mind. There was love and acceptance with an undercurrent of something that was not quite pity, something that might be sympathy and a hint of protectiveness.

“You’re so young,” he said, and she felt her hackles rise, because it had been such a long time since she hadn’t got the luxury of being young.

“It’s alright” came another dream voice, Finn’s, at the same moment as Poe’s voice added “I’m sorry.”

 “You’re strong, the strongest,” whispered Poe’s slightly apologetic voice.

“You’re our friend”, said Finn’s voice, louder.

And yes, that was Finn alright, forefront of his mind clear as a glass of water, and behind it – no evilness, never from him, and what shadows and gaps opened deep inside weren’t hers to explore, but the shadows were there, and he radiated with the same yearning Rey knew in herself, the same need for friendship and human warmth. Poe, somewhat, felt that too, enveloped them all in a wave of fierce tenderness.

“We care for you,” said the two voices at the same time.

“Love you,” added Finn, and Poe’s feelings seemed to waver on the edge of Finn’s voice, not completely in unison – there was a hint of jealously, she realised, and Poe seemed honest enough to realise it and try to push it away, replacing it with trust in Finn and Finn’s judgement.

“Here’s something to feel better,” said Poe, “to add to that Jakku dream you shared with us.”

She found herself in a cockpit. Larger than a Starfighter, smaller than the Falcon. Console more streamlined and more efficiently organised, too. The hands she could see on the commands were larger than her own, tanner, a man’s hands. Poe’s. She was sitting co-pilot, sharing the seat with Finn and it made for a cramped setting. She chuckled and let herself accept Finn’s hug.

“Brace yourself,” said Poe. “That thing ain’t a Starfighter but I’m sure we can make it jump through a few hoops, eh?”

The acceleration was tremendous as Poe used the attraction of the sun in front of them to turn their course into a perfect parabola, bouncing back with even more speed and using that for a series of increasingly powerful barrel rolls.

“Wooo-hoo!” He yelled. “Gravity! I love playing with it. It’s like 3-D billiards in space! Watch that planet!”

The planet made for another game of attraction and release and the ship went bouncing further, with Poe working wingovers and loops around the numerous satellites that went in the way. Rey wasn’t even sure she could see Poe’s face in the dream, but she was damn sure she could see his smile, wide, winning, happy.

“Your turn!” said Poe abruptly as they went down from the last loop, and she could again feel his smile. “Secondary thrust is the red handle on the right, beware of the lagging when shifting to the side jets!”

The dream shifted. Her hands were on the commands and Poe was sitting on Finn’s lap, looking like he enjoyed himself, and Finn, a lot.

“Is that – is that for real?” she asked, panting and riding a not inconsequential adrenaline high as she took the ship out of a nice, long tailspin, brushing the atmosphere of a nearby planet. Poe radiated approval and Finn radiated – a kind of well-meaning nausea?

“We’re in the dreamspace,” said Poe. “But yeah, this system looked quite like that last time I went in, the ship is real and we’re making a good job of reimagining her moves in there. I think it’s really close to what it would be in the waking world! Even though my brain seems to love adding satellites. You’re good! Better than good!”

“Shit,” said Finn, looking, or feeling, slightly green. “Next time, will either of you warn me beforehand?” He exhaled and the feeling of the ship faded and went to become nothing more than a suggestion in the background. “Poe, it’s great we managed this, but we should tell her, before…”

“Yeah,” said Poe, wariness creeping in his tone. “Rey, I’m not sure how long we can keep it like that, without, without _him_ coming in and –”

“ _Don’t think of it,_ ” urged Finn.

“Yeah. Yeah, Rey, we wanted to find you – I’m glad we could. We didn’t want you to think we’d abandoned you, we –”

“- thing is,” Finn cut him, “we’ve left the Resistance.”

“What?” said Rey. “You what?”

“Not really left the Resistance,” said Poe, “but left the base, yeah. Stole a ship, Finn and BB-8 and I.”

“No! No, you didn’t? But why?”

She felt Poe trying to form coherent sentences, felt Finn pushing to help, but what tumbled into her mind finally was more a jumble of memories and emotions barely put into words. Finn’s increasing alienation from the rest of the base, Poe’s drawn-on retreat under Kylo Ren’s assaults, his fear of betraying everyone, his longing for Leia’s trust and his despair at being thought a deflector, his anguish at maybe really being one. Finn’s hesitations and his own shame at abandoning his duty, his newfound, deep belief in the Resistance actions, his unconditional love for Poe.

Poe’s answering love. His guilt at having drawn Finn and BB-8 with him.

Their wish to strike back. Their hopes to do so, even if only by giving back their history and their humanity to a handful of Stormtroopers. Even if only to Finn. Their small, hidden from each other, deep knowledge of how very unlikely it was that their little team would manage anything of great consequence before falling.

Poe’s deep, deep relief at not being a danger to his comrades anymore.

“I understand,” said Rey. “I wish –” she wished she could muster all the power she felt bubbling inside to help them. She wished she had no power at all and could just follow them. She wished she were back at the base with them and she could just _make friends_.

“Yeah,” said Poe, and maybe he’d have said more if the settings around them hadn’t abruptly darkened, becoming nothing more than black shadows with steel highlights and blinking red lights.

“Shit,” said Finn, low and scared.

“Yeah. Unavoidable,” Poe said, but the varnish of bravado felt very thin over the fear.

“Using the Force, Poe Dameron?” Kylo Ren’s voice was triumphant. “Willingly, in a dream? What, did you think you could keep me out of that little meeting?”

“I didn’t,” breathed Poe, and Rey could feel the tremendous effort he was making to keep the dream going around him, to maintain a brighter light and the outline of a cockpit, the effort, even, he had to produce to talk.

“Pathetic,” Kylo Ren said, while Rey could only watch as he threw all his power into Poe’s mind without even a care for the dramatics of the dream. There came only blackness and the choking, aborted noise that it pulled out of Poe.

“You won’t trick me this time,” Ren said. “I won’t let you wake up, and I won’t even let you control enough of your body to kill yourself. I’ll just follow the link between us and I’ll know where you hide, you and your sad little band of friends.”

Rey felt Finn trying to reach for Poe, feeble and swaying under the strength of Ren’s Force assault. Poe sobbed, which was probably something, she thought, which meant that they still could find each other. She couldn’t, and she began to look frantically for some chink in Ren’s armour, some way to use her power without damaging her friends.

And then Poe laughed. It sounded weak and reedy but surprisingly mirthful. “Follow all you want,” Poe managed to say. “Can’t you see? Feel? I’m in hyperspace, Ben. Flying through the stars. Not even quite in the same spacetime as yours. I’m nowhere! Don’t you feel dizzy, trying to follow?”

It _was_ dizzying, Rey realised when she tried to pinpoint the place where she could still feel Finn. Disorientating, like trying to single out one bird out of a murmuration of desert ghorals. Always moving, always changing shape, one organism feeling like a multitude.

Out of nowhere, or rather out of Finn’s mind came suddenly the absurd idea of some kind of foodstuff, round and a strange red-purple-blue colour, smelling strongly of cheese. The impression of nausea that had begun emanating from Ren reached new heights, and then turned abruptly to red-hot, wordless rage. Poe yelled, in so much pain that Rey could sense its agonizing echo in Finn, who howled in answer.

Rey felt her anger swell. The dam Luke had worked so patiently to build up with her broke and she lashed at Ren with every reserve of power she could muster, willing all the pain to rebound towards its sender. “Coward,” she seethed as she felt him sway under her attack. “Hitting when they can’t fight back, just to hide your failure. You can’t find them, but _I_ can find you if you stay here. I’m not in hyperspace and _I_ can, I will follow that link. Get out or I find you, little Ben! I swear, I’ll hunt you to the end of the Galaxy and fight you!”

Rey wouldn’t have known if her assault was enough to down Kylo Ren. Fighting in dreams hadn’t been a part of Luke’s teachings and Ren was her first, her only opponent, no comparison possible. But the onslaught had at least the merit to distract him from Poe and Finn who both, nearly at the same time, disappeared from the dream. Awake, she guessed.

For the time of a few heartbeats, Ren stayed with her. But his bond was primarily to Poe and increasingly to Finn, not to her, so that she could only feel a dwindling, helpless hate before he faded from her dreams.

But in those few heartbeats she had caught something like a direction, the sense of a place. She thought she knew where she’d go to try and find him, and, she mused, maybe she would.

/

Finn was still yelling when he woke up.

“Hell,” he said, wondering if his voice really sounded so distorted or if it was the all-encompassing headache that made it seem so. He tried to sit up in their shared cramped cot and, of course, bumped his head on the low ceiling. He swore and let the worse of the aftershocks pass. “That fucker,” he said finally. “I knew he’d lash back at us when he’d understand, but that…”

He looked at the curled up unmoving form of Poe against him. Poe had his eyes open, which was good. At least he wasn’t asleep anymore. Or was he? His gaze seemed unfocused, slightly cross-eyed. Finn put a tentative hand on his arm, pressing gently. “Poe? You’re there, buddy?”

Poe hissed and made an abortive gesture towards his temples, then turned green and lay back at once on the cot. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”

“Good,” said Finn, feeling relief wash over him. He couldn’t help smiling a little.

“What?” Poe groaned, trying to focus on Finn and looking more cross-eyed than ever. “Good?”

“You’re awake. I was afraid you’d stayed behind.”

“Oh no. No. Thank the Force for Rey. Finn, you alright?”

“Headache. But we did it, Poe, we did it! Contacted Rey, used the Force!”

“Hm. If that’s the price to pay, don’t know if I’ll do it so often, hyperspace or not. Shit, that hurt. You think she’s okay? Rey, I mean?”

Finn couldn’t help the wide smile he felt blossoming. In spite of everything, finally getting a prolonged contact with Rey had fulfilled a deep-set need he hadn’t known was there. Rey, he realised, was the one person in the universe whose longings felt so similar to his. Like a sister, maybe, or a double. A damn Force-strong double. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure she’s all right. Didn’t you feel? She owned that asshole. She’s stronger than him.”

Poe pushed his palms hard into his eyes and scrubbed. He winced. “Yeah, sure, she’s very strong. Didn’t mean it like that, though. We left her, Finn. Alone. She felt so, so – I know she wouldn’t like me to say it, but she felt so young. Hardened, yeah. But so lonely, so unfinished. I had hoped Skywalker would know that and get back sooner.”

“Know what? That she needs friends?”

“Ah.” He nodded. “But Luke isn’t Leia, uh? The universe needs a Jedi, he’ll make a Jedi out of her. Poor girl. I hope what we gave her helped, at least a little.”

“I – I think she needs more than this. Can’t we find her? I mean, physically?”

Poe grimaced and looked apologetic.

“Ah, shit,” Finn went on. “We’d bring Kylo Ren and the First Order to Skywalker, huh.” Poe nodded and winced – again. “Poe? You look like shit. Need painkillers?”

“I’ll manage,” said Poe, eyes scrunched shut and fingers digging into his temples. “It’s those lights – oh, dammit!” He shouted the last word and tried to stand at once.

Finn admired the way he avoided the curved ceiling on instinct – probably some standard Resistance design, he thought - but had to steady him as he got on his feet. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Lights just reminded me we’re still in hyperspace. I hope we didn’t already miss the re-entry point! BB-8? How are we right now?”

From his plugged in station at the cockpit, BB-8 bleeped a couple of sentences. Finn thought he could catch a few reassuring words but most of the technical binary still went high above his head.

“It’s okay,” Poe said. “Well, no red-level emergency but I’ll still have to take the seat soon enough. And BB-8 wants you to know he’s scolding me for not trusting him to warn us. Got the time for a fast breakfast, I think, ‘cause I need a bit more of my wits with me. Two painkillers and a double caf, should do. You?”

“Poe, you should eat. And step off that caf.”

“Don’t like caf?”

“Eurgh. Tastes like old socks and makes you twitchy. What I really want is a large mug of that synthchocolate I saw they stockpiled. I’ve been dreaming of that since I inventoried our supplies.”

“You know it’s nothing like the real thing?”

“Yeah, well as far as I’m concerned synthchocolate _is_ the real thing. I’ll let you know that where I come from it was a highly-prised rarity. And you can stop making that face, I do have some good memories from before, you know? You can keep your bitter unsweetened homegrown overburnt seeds or whatever they are.”

Poe caught Finn by the nape of his neck and brought their foreheads together. “Tell you what,” he smiled, “you let me poison myself with as much caf as I need and you can inhale as much of that sugary monstrosity as you like. Though my Yavin roots are screaming at the idea. Pssh. ‘ _Chocolate’_.”

Finn leaned into the embrace and stole a kiss. “Poison yourself all you want but eat something with it, huh? There’s raisin bread.”

“Yeah,” sighed Poe. “ ‘ _Bread’_.”

/

“Finn,” called Poe from the cockpit, “shaving can wait, re-entry point’s near. Gonna get rough, you’d better come now!”

“Rough?” asked Finn, buckling up on the co-pilot seat.

“Yeah. Deflectors are shot, remember? I won’t get much steering. Best I can do is get ourselves in orbit around the C-1557 moon there. No atmosphere, allows for little pressure on the ship structure.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gonna show you a few things right now, before everything begins to shake.” Poe turned abruptly and looked Finn in the eyes, his usual levity when talking of ship-related things partly – no, realised Finn, completely gone. “Finn, what I’ll be demonstrating right now is the bare minimum to get yourself down on a planet and out of that ship alive, if you need it.”

“If I – why should I need it?”

“Because – ah, fuck, right now, because once we’re safely in orbit, I’ll have to get out in space to make the necessary repairs. With BB-8 to help me.”

“But I thought you said it was routine? Easy?”

“Yeah, well. Should be easy. I’ll try to mount new deflectors on, been thinking of adding a supplementary joint to open the angles so the ship moves better. But ‘m not sure I have all the tools for that and it’s gonna be in space. Accidents happen, huh. So. First of all, look at that row of lights. If anything’s still red there, you just get as low as possible on the nearest planet with an atmosphere and eject. I downloaded the map of this system on the console, that’s on that monitor. Cockpit works as an ejection and lifesaving pod, command’s there. Keep down the security switch with one hand and pull that with the other. Distress signal is set to my Resistance ID, will make them come to get you fast enough. Probably the best outcome.”

“How do I bring the ship low enough?”

“Easiest way is to use only the main jets and the upper wing foils. Take that joystick here, try it. Key for the autopilot is here. There. It’s off.”

Finn pushed down.

“Whoa!” laughed Poe, putting his own hand on Finn’s and correcting the attitude. “Not so heavy! You’ll get us out of the hyperspace rail. Light touches, and remember that putting her nose up means you need to redirect the main thrust as well. That’s that handle there. Pushing her down, be careful, too. A little too much and you’re in for a tumble, so no jet pulse at the same time. Want to try to make her turn, just a little? The rail’s large enough.”

“Uh,” said Finn, trying to keep his doubts out of his tone. “Okay.”

“Right. Turning _does_ slow her down in atmo if you do it the usual way, by changing the geometry of the wings, you know, so you have to compensate with the jets. Or you can just tilt them, I mean the jets, and play with that. Which also works in space. Yeah. Let’s begin with jets only, should be enough. You just move the handle around, like so. Come on, like that!”

“That’s what I’m doing,” muttered Finn, concentrating on not overdoing it this time.

“Well, do it even more! She’s lagging a little, I’m afraid. Go on, tilt some more! More, I said! Okay, not – okay, that’s it. Well. I think you’ve got the hang of it. Now correct back on track. No, back! The other way! Finn!”

“Dammit, Poe, that’s the first time I’ve ever done that, you know?”

Poe took hold of the jets handle and gently brought the ship back on its course, mumbling swearwords.

“Okay,” he finally said. “With more room around your wings you should be able to do it.”

“And if I have to land it down?”

“Only if the lights there turn green, uh. That’ll mean we’ll have completed the repairs before – well. If BB-8’s still connected to the hull, he’ll be able to transmit things to the console, readings are on that screen. Mostly, you let him plan the descent and the engines swap. If not, when the atmosphere’s thick enough you have to switch off the deep space engine and get the atmo going. Better to do it too early than too late. It only eats more fuel. Copy that?”

“Fuck, Poe. What are my chances, really?”

“I don’t know, Finn. I don’t know. Right now I fucking think I can do those repairs easily but I’ll be damned if I leave you without a chance if I don’t. And that’s why _you_ have to listen and learn the best you can, because that will be the shortest crash cou-, uh, sorry, well the shortest course in landing a ship that ever was. Engine switch is there. There are a few more routines that should be done together, but omitting them won’t explode the ship so we’ll keep them for another time.”

“Okay.”

“And then you add the shield, press that here once. You’ll have to press twice before landing or you’ll land on your belly. That is, when that dial here shows that line lower than one third or so, you press twice, that’s the beginning of the landing procedure.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me again?”

“Switch to atmo engine and press once here when entering atmosphere, press twice when that line on the dial dips lower than one third, begin landing procedure. Okay.”

“Of course you’ll have to pilot your descent. Try to avoid the biggest cloud masses, it often moves a lot in there, even with a starship.”

“Okay.”

“You sure you’re okay? You’re making that face –”

“Face?”

“All closed-in and – oh fuck I’m sorry, Finn, I’m sorry to do that to you like that. I shouldn’t have let you – ”

“Let me what?”

“Come with me. Or I should have ejected you when I talked with Pava.”

“Dammit, you blockhead, not again! I chose this. I, myself. Go on, tell me what to do next.”

Poe smiled weakly. “Let’s take that as an exercise, yeah? You’re doing good. Ah, I’m glad you’re with me, I, ah, I hate that I had to do that move to get us out yesterday and put us in that situation. And I’m sorry. I’m usually more patient with recruits – well, I hope so anyway, at least I go slower, it’s just that – that I’ve never been so involved in – ah, shit.”

Poe shook his head and rubbed again at his eyes, then went on. “Well, you can use the jets as I showed you to pilot your descent, although you’ll need to get a wide berth. And when you’ve begun the landing, you get her nose down and just _pull everything_ , and I do say _pull everything_ on the main pulse for maximum velocity even if it’s scary to watch the ground come up so fast, and choose a large, open, soft surface because I don’t think that you’ll be able to estimate your elevation well enough for a track landing. When you think you’re close enough to your chosen surface you pull the joystick to your belly, _hard_ , to bring her nose up enough, and reverse the engine, which will also activate the antigrav. Like that.”

Finn was still trying to make sense of the information dump when Poe pulled with one hand and pushed with the other in an exaggerated motion. The ship seemed to stop at once although the strange starlight of hyperspace kept going around. Finn’s shoulders dug into his harness.

“Ow, that hurt!” he shouted in annoyance. “Do I have to make it as violent as that?”

“Better violent and alive than too weak or too late and in a crater in the ground, huh.”

“Hey, you’re full of mirth today, you know that?”

Poe let go of the commands and slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down. He sighed and shook his head again. “You don’t know how –”

“I think I know,” said Finn, looking ahead at the distorted stars. “But everything that happens isn’t your fault. Or your responsibility. We’re here because the both of us decided it was the best we could do. Your decision, _my_ _decision_. And we’ll keep on doing the best we can, huh? I trust you with these repairs, I really do, and you’ll trust me with, uh, with crashing the ship only a little if I need to?”

Poe straightened up and sent a sidelong glance at Finn. Saw Finn’s smile and smiled in return. “Fuck I love you,” he said.

“Yeah, me too. Uh, Poe?”

“Finn?”

“What’s ‘close enough to the surface?’ For a landing?”

“When everything beeps and flashes red?” Poe smiled, just as something did go red. “Tell you later, that’s not the landing alarm but the re-entry one. Wasn’t kidding when I said it’s gonna shake a lot, so hold on to your seat and don’t worry!”

Finn took in a breath and watched as Poe’s hand went to the commands again, this time with tiny, exact, precise movements. But his right hand, Finn noticed, went clutching the joystick with maybe a little more strength than usual as he switched the hyperdrive off.

The vibrations came at once, ample and fast and doing strange things to Finn’s sinuses. He gritted his teeth, noted how Poe had added his second hand on the joystick and how his knuckles had gone white. The deflector handle that Finn had kept down during their escape was wobbling up and down and clanging against the commands board. He extended a tentative hand to catch it and stop the noise.

“No!” yelled Poe over the cacophony. “There’s a deflector that’s not quite torn, seems to be stuck in a lateral pulse generator! Better not touch that!”

“What can I do?” yelled Finn in answer, because there wasn’t anything he hated more than just watching and wondering where death would come from.

“Huh?”

“What can I do!”

“Oh! Not much, it’s just a question of maintaining our course! Hey, if you can manage to reach from where you are, you can help me hold that whuffa worm of a joystick, could do with another pair of arms!”

The cockpit wasn’t that wide and at least it meant doing something, so Finn half-extricated himself from his harness enough to extend a hand, his shoulder pressing into Poe’s. The joystick seemed to have a life of its own, trying to go all the way up, and it _was_ tiring to try to keep it centred enough.

Poe got an arm out, shook it some and draped it across Finn’s shoulders. “Ouch!” he said. “Muscles were beginning to cramp.” He leant against Finn even more and spoke into his ear: “don’t worry, soldier. Might be impressive but it’s not dangerous. We’ve got all the space we want, heh. Just need to keep to our course until the moon gravity catches us and then we can shut off the pulse and rest.”

Poe was right, Finn thought after a while. A very long, tedious, noisy, exhausting while. There was nothing dangerous in what they were doing. Nothing exalting either. It was dull flying in a long, long curve, with the incommensurable noise of the ship around them and a shaking that went straight through their teeth into their skulls. His shoulders and back were aching from his twisted position, even after alternating between Poe and himself several times to keep the joystick in check.

“Force damn it,” breathed Poe finally, “I think we’re nearly there. Orbit’s about to become stable. BB-8?”

BB-8 didn’t beep but a line of data appeared on a monitor in front of them, together with a holo of the moon they were approaching. The small blinking dot of their ship was nearing a red ellipsis, closer and closer until both trajectories merged.

Poe jumped on a switch at once, killing the main engine. The vibrations ceased and the joystick went dead in Finn’s hand.

Finn threw himself back on his seat, letting his arms dangle loose. “Hell,” he said, “the more I see of how ships really work, the more I lose any romantic preconceptions I could have harboured about piloting.”

“And pilots?” smirked Poe, massaging and stretching his shoulders in what seemed to be a futile attempt at working out a kink.

“Pilots are adrenaline junkies whose remarkably muscled shoulders I now know are due to them fighting against rebelling ships.”

Poe unbuckled, rose and made a show of rolling said undeniably, truly, really nice, shoulders. “Like what you see, soldier?”

Finn stood up, which in the limited space of the cockpit meant he found himself quite close to Poe. “You know I do,” he said, becoming quite interested in the way Poe was worrying his lower lip with his teeth only inches from Finn’s eyes. “Nice mouth, too,” he blurted, and Poe’s dark eyes lowered a fraction, his gaze lingering on Finn’s lips.

It had to end in a kiss, it _should_ have ended in one and probably led to further things because Finn felt a definite stirring in his groin, but the twisting motion he initiated to get at Poe’s mouth pulled at the too-tense muscles of his back and side and it _hurt_. He half sat, half collapsed back on his seat.

“Hey, what –” said Poe.

Finn grimaced. “Don’t know if it’s the old wound or the newest, but one of them didn’t like our session with the stick, uh. Muscles are all seized up, too bad because I was beginning to have quite filthy thoughts.”

Poe sighed. “Yeah. Me too. Do you want me to help you go back to the lounge area? You can lie down on the bench and wait it out or I can give you a massage if you feel up to it.”

Finn extended up a hand. “Just help me stand, I’m good enough to walk a few meters. Wouldn’t say no to a massage, but I thought you’d have to, well, soon enough?” he motioned with his chin towards the ship wall and what was behind it. Space, repairs, a place where Poe had said he could die.

“Oh, there’s no hurry,” said Poe. “We’re airtight, well-stocked, our orbit is stable, and the fuel the ship’s burning right now is negligible. If you want to postpone the repairs until after you’re recovered enough to fuck me into the mattress, we can. Or give me a nice blowjob, wouldn’t be adverse to that either. Or if you don’t want to wait so much, you can lie back and get that gorgeous thick dick of yours out and _I_ can suck _you_ well and nice, uh? Swallow you whole, I bet you’d love that.”

Finn moaned, half from sheer desire and half in frustration. He was still sitting, and his hand was still up for Poe to take it. “Dammit, Poe, stop that. Not nice. Right now I’d just like you to take my hand and pull me up so that I can stagger to the lounge, please, and – and as for the fucking, and I’m not saying no either to you sucking my dick, I think I’d rather have them _after_ the repair.” He managed a smirk. “So you look forward to it and have a reason to come back, huh?”

Poe finally pulled him up and got an arm around his waist, half leaning into Finn and half supporting him. “I’ll come back,” he said low, his lips nearly to Finn’s ear. “Really, chances of this going bad are very, very small. But right now we’re getting you on your belly on the bench cushions and I’m giving you that massage. You look like you need it.”

/

“So,” said Poe, voice low and tender. “That side wound must still be pulling quite a lot, huh? Your whole side cramped up. Does it hurt much along this rib?”

“Mmmh – ouch?” It did hurt a lot but the pain felt somewhat removed, lost in the haze of Poe’s hands smoothening and loosening his muscles. He shivered as Poe prodded lightly along the most painful area, from a vertebra high in his back to his side. “Mmmh. You’re good at that, Poe. Don’t stop, yeah, just there.”

He felt the warmth of Poe’s hands, the way they were, maybe, ever so slightly, shaking. Then Poe dug a little too deep into a stubborn knot of muscle and Finn couldn’t help the hiss.

“Aw, sorry,” Poe said, resting his hand flat on Finn’s skin. “I – I didn’t realise. You don’t like to show it when you’re in pain, uh. Did they give you exercises for your back? Still feels very tense. And your side wound needs tending. Ah. Should have known. Wouldn’t have you made participate in that ship wrangling today.”

“Hey,” Finn mumbled, feeling slightly more awake and maybe a little annoyed. “ _I_ knew how I felt and I still decided to help, huh?”

“Yeah,” Poe said. “Right. Still, Finn, you know you don’t have to push yourself so much. You – sometimes, it feels like you keep going on when you’d better stop, for your own health, I mean. It’s not like –”

“- Says the man that fainted in his cockpit before having to be told to stop, huh.”

“What? I didn’t faint!”

“You didn’t?”

“I blacked out. Not the same thing.”

“Sure.”

Poe sighed. After a while, he resumed his kneading of Finn’s back. More lightly maybe, more carefully. Tender.

“I see what you mean, though,” Poe said finally with a self-deprecating chuckle. Finn nodded once and lay back his head in his folded arms, letting the feeling of Poe’s hand wash over him for a while. Or hoping to do so.

“Poe?” Finn called when he had enough of his mind running in circles.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’m young?”

“Huh, what? Why, you think you’re old?”

“No. No, I mean. Like you said of Rey earlier. It felt you said she’s sort of too young, huh. Like she can’t quite take care of herself, sort of like she needed your help. And you, it sometimes feels you want to do the same for me, you know, decide for me. So, do you think I’m young?”

Poe’s hands went still. In the corner of his eye, Finn saw him raise a hand and rub his eyes again. “Oh, shit,” Poe mumbled, then he let himself flop down, sitting on the floor close to Finn’s head.

“Actually, how old are you?” Poe asked, definitely looking like he was buying time. Then he looked up uncertainly and searched Finn’s gaze. “I mean, I hope, did the First Order –”

Finn sighed and turned on his side towards Poe. “Yes, of course, I know my own age. I’m twenty-three.”

“I’m thirty-two,” Poe said. “Older than you, guess we both knew that. But tell you what, no. I don’t think you’re too young. Or so young. Or very young, whatever. I never felt that.” He looked down, putting a hand on the back of his neck and scratching some imaginary itch. “Finn, this has all the potential of us having our first big row and I’m just – I’m just too tired. I don’t want it. That’s true, with Rey, I kind of, I – each time I find myself mother henning you a little you just hand me my ass on a platter. You don’t feel like a child. Never. ”

“I don’t, either. I haven’t been made to feel like a child for a very long time. Maybe they never allowed it.”

“But they also expected you to listen and obey. Always. Like someone too young or too addled to know. And you broke that. Chose for yourself, made your own decision.”

Poe stood up and resumed his ministrations on Finn’s back. Finn saw him in the corner of his eye and noticed how close he had brought himself over him, how protective his stance looked.

“I’m in awe that you could,” Poe went on. He cleared his voice. “But –”

“But?” asked Finn, feeling himself tense.

“But I keep seeing it, how – how they maimed you, no – not maimed, how they left their mark on you. All these sharp little shards they left embedded in, officers making you break up in sweat, the way you flinch when you wake up late, fuck, how you try never to show when you’re in pain, and I, I, I just want to kill them all and I want to make it so that they had never hurt you. It’s not that I don’t know you can deal with it, it’s – I know I’m overprotective and that I’m not doing it well but how couldn’t I want to keep you away from harm?”

Finn caught one of Poe’s hand over his shoulder, twisted as best as he could and pulled Poe down in his arms.

“Don’t try,” he whispered, feeling a dam fissure in his heart and keeping his tone light, hoping Poe wouldn’t notice. “Harm is everywhere and those shards have become a part of me. It’s not a big deal, honestly it isn’t.”

“See? You’re doing it again. You’re the strongest man I know, Finn, but it’s okay to let yourself be weak sometimes.”

“I’m not strong,” Finn mumbled in Poe’s neck. “Rey is. I, I’m always afraid.”

“And you face your fears, which is better than most of us.”

After that they didn’t talk for a while and Finn kept holding Poe flush against him on the too narrow bench. He could feel the rise and fall of his chest and even his heartbeats and he let himself get soothed by them.

Poe yawned.

“You’re still exhausted,” said Finn. “You’re never rested after the nightmares and you were knackered even before. Take a nap? I’ll watch over you, in case he – but I don’t think he will, not after what Rey did.”

Finn felt Poe’s smile against his cheek. “Now who’s being overprotective, uh?”

“That’s because I love you.”

“Yeah. Same.”

“Sleep.”

“Finn, about Rey –”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid for her.”

“Why? I told you, she’s strong. She’s like me, you know, she might be young but she never had a real childhood. She can deal.”

“But you – as I said, you took your own decisions. Chose who you wanted to be. She’s still doing what others decided was best. Do you think she wanted to become a Jedi?”

“Don’t know. But I don’t think she’d stand it for long if she didn’t want it. Now, Poe, get some sleep. Really. You need it and I don’t want you to blow up the ship because you mistook, I don’t know, an intertidal dumpster with a deflector or whatever it is you call it.”

“The word is alluvial damper and what you said doesn’t make sense.”

“Get some sleep, Poe.”

/

Rey was tasting salt on her tongue. Only it was blood, not salt, not the ocean again at all. She had bitten the inside of her cheek in her sleep. Luke was shaking her awake.

“What did you do,” he said, looking more worried that she’d ever seen him, “what did you do! You used the Force in your dream. There was anger.”

She sighed and sat up. Blood tasted like ashes now.

“Kylo Ren. I showed him.”

“I should have known. Force, how could I have thought it would remain so easy? You were so pure, purer and more innocent than we ever were!”

“What did I do? I used the Force, isn’t that what we’re doing everyday? How we hope to defeat the Dark Side? Luke, what worth is it if we can’t use it when we need it? Luke!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing at night? I’ve been feeling, well – things. Subtle alterations. I thought you were just rehearsing our exercises.”

“This is all you’ve been feeling? Subtle alterations? _I’ve_ been feeling my friends’ minds being invaded by Kylo Ren for more than one month!”

“And you never said? Who are these friends?”

“You never asked!”

Luke was managing to keep his tone even and it just made her blood boil. She could feel he was upset, it seeped a little out of him, coloured his thought, but she wanted him to acknowledge it, wanted to provoke him to burst and finally look – human.

“Rey, Kylo Ren is – he should be feared, but not attacked. The Dark side is – attractive, seductive, dangerous.”

“You keep saying that!”

“Kylo Ren should be pitied. He’s a tool in their hands. A lost boy, well, lost man now.”

“I know! I know you think that! You’ve brought back Vader to the light and it’s what you hold on even thirty years later! They keep doing horrible things, torture and murders and worse and all you can think of is redeeming them! Well, I don’t care. I don’t care that you think he can be saved! He killed Han! He can keep to the Dark and die there as long as he stops hurting everyone around me!”

“He’s not even completely gone to the Dark, you know. Not even now. I can feel –”

That’s when Rey knew she had enough. Of the well-meaning blankness and the emotions sliding over him, of his complete inability to see what was under his nose.

“And me, can you feel what’s in me? Do you even care? How is it so different from the Dark side, what you’re doing to me? How you choose for me? Do you think I enjoy it? That fucking ocean? The fucking stones levitating when Poe gets a little more fucked up every day because Ren? When Finn gets caught in that fucking game a little more every night? You don’t, do you? Don’t _feel_ what’s just there! Well, let me tell you. I never chose the Force. Or that damn lightsaber. And what it does to me.”

“Rey!”

“Well, I don’t want it! I don’t want to be a Jedi! My place is with them, fighting at their side. I don’t care if all I can do is repair X-wings, if I never even get to piloting one, I’m just going to help them fight!”

She caught her breath, made her wildly beating heart go slower, knowing she was using Luke’s techniques and wasn’t using them as he’d wished she would.

“Let me go,” she said

Luke looked at her, really looked at her and for the first time she saw the resemblance between him and Leia. His eyes were wide open and – wet. He was crying, openly and the sadness he felt finally spilled out and overwhelmed her. There was – anguish, too, maybe fear.

“You fear me?” she breathed.

“I don’t. Not you. You’re a good child, Rey. There’s purity even in your anger. But what you could do – what could happen. Does history really repeats itself so much? I had hoped –”

“What.”

“Nothing. I won’t retain you here against your will, child.”

She hesitated. Luke’s teaching had been full of promises. Full of the rediscovered wonders of the Jedi temple, things even Luke hadn’t got the opportunity to learn before. “Then I want to go,” she said.

“I’ll ask Artoo if he wants to go with you. I’ll miss him but I know how to use a navcomp myself. Will you take the Falcon? I think Chewie will be happy to go with you. And Han would have loved that, I bet.” Luke choked a little on Han’s name, smiled, closed his eyes in something that looked like pain.

It tugged at something in Rey’s chest. “Why? Why are you letting yourself feel that only now? If I had seen, earlier. Had –had I only known –”

“I’m not – Han was – oh damn. Fucking hell. You’d have stayed?”

“I – I don’t know. I still don’t want to be a Jedi.” She undid Luke’s lightsaber at her belt and held it at arm’s length like that first time on the steps. “Take it. It’s yours.”

This time he did. “Then why did you come?” he asked, his voice breaking.

She knew she’d sound bitter. Said it anyway. “I thought I’d know more about my family. I still don’t know a thing.”

Luke’s head shot up. “Don’t go looking for your mother,” he said.

“Why my mother?”

“Because the nicest thing I can say about her is that she chose to abandon you.”

Rey felt a pang of something, like a dream going up in smoke, and then just sadness. “Everyone at the base seemed to assume you were my father.”

“Do you think I’d have let you crawl in the sand for so long if it had been the case?”

“And since I wasn’t you let me.”

Luke’s eyes flashed with anger, one blink and it was gone. “Hear me, child. We didn’t know you were there. If you’d been my kid I’d have upturned the whole galaxy, no, the whole universe to find you! I’d – but I have no child. As it was, when – when we couldn’t find your body among the other children’s, we – ah, Rey, we assumed the First Order had taken you back.”

“So I’m a First Order kid, uh. Didn’t even know that there were. Why did she abandon me?”

“Why didn’t she kill you, you mean?”

It wasn’t what Rey was asking but she’d never seen Luke so willing to talk so she nodded. He went on. “You were a part of her, I think, or something she’d made. She was too proud to destroy it. But believe me, she didn’t love you. No place for that. She feared you, yes. Like some future competitor or some future overlord. Someone had felt the Force in her babe.”

“Not her?”

“No, she couldn’t have.”

“My father, then?”

“We don’t know who he is.”

“And she, who was she?”

“I don’t really know. She was rather young, risen up from the ranks, all steel and snot and disdain. She believed in order and in the military and survival of the fittest and saw the Force, light or dark, as something to avoid. Tall, very tall, which probably saved her when she had to hide her pregnancy. That’s all I know. Don’t go looking for her, Rey. She won’t thank you.”

Rey felt the smile on her face like a mask. “I won’t. It’s just – I’ll get myself my own family. It’s just – something I’m finally allowed to grieve for. After so long.”

Luke surprised her by stepping forward in her own space and taking her in a fierce hug. Maybe, she thought, maybe the mentor hadn’t been who he really was.

/

Rey had a pretty good image of where she wanted to go in the whole Galaxy. Actually, she had several distinct images. But while the Falcon had some maps, she hadn’t the slightest idea of how to translate the places she could locate into something the ship would understand.

So she just pointed and let Chewie and Artoo sort it between themselves. The stars turned into a path and she felt, for the first time in her life, free.

/

The stars were still elongated lines and Finn reflected that he’d never seen it before defecting from the First Order. And it was what Poe was offering him. He was giving Finn the stars. Literally. He was also piloting in nothing but extremely form-fitting briefs and an old once-white-now-turning-grey-with-age tank top, which Finn should have thought shockingly sloppy but was beginning to find endearing. He set his hand on Poe’s thigh and began lightly playing with the hairs there. He still could feel Poe’s taste on his tongue.

Poe changed hands on the stick to cover Finn’s hand with his own.

“Hey, should you be doing that?” asked Finn, half joking and half not.

“Sure. She’s a real pleasure to pilot now that I’ve made the changes. A couple of new joints on the deflectors, some twiddling with the jets, nice easy repairs. Worked like a charm. I told you so!”

“Hey,” grumbled Finn. “You also told me that you might die in space doing them, leaving me all alone in a ship I can’t really pilot.”

Poe’s features shifted, something between a cadet being caught lying by his mentor and the raw acknowledgement of what their life really was here, balanced on the edge of a precipice.

Then he smiled, open and toothy and glad, and it was – maybe note quite a mask, but some sort of armour. “Anyway. Nice little ship. I could move the stick with my toes and she’d still answer.”

Finn played along. “She? Wasn’t the ship an it last time?”

“Yeah but she’s earned it now. What shall we call her? Pride of the Galaxy? Stars Explorer? Huh, then she’d be Stars Explorer nine or maybe ten, or is it eleven? because I’m sure there were at least eight other ships named so at the base. And they weren’t the best. Any idea?”

”Tin Can? Not-actually-intertidal-dumpster?”

“Finn, where’s the romantic in you? Okay, actually I like Tin. Just Tin. Suits her. And now look around. Look at the stars.”

The ship exited hyperspace and Finn gasped. The sky was more luminous than everything he could ever remember seeing, with a glorious stripe of stars as bright as several moons bisecting the darkness of space. But what was truly breathtaking was how those stars would shine through an arched, translucent cloud of magenta and purple, like, he thought, like a bridge over a river of stars.

“Oh Force,” said Finn. “Force. I always just imagined space like distance between two points, you know. There weren’t screen or windows in the holds. But that. That –”

“Yeah. That’s – that’s what it is really about, piloting a starship. For me. There’s more to space than speed and dogfights and satellite hopping. Things like that, I mean a nebula like that, they’re making you feel really small. Or very big, like, like now the sky becomes just a little more real because there’s this small bag of skin and blood and bones who lived but for one moment and looked at it and thought it was beautiful.”

“Yes,” said Finn, then he paused. Then “Thanks.”

Because it was Finn now who felt a little more real. A little less like a defective Stormtrooper and an aborted Resistance member, a little more like his own self who could look at the stars and rejoice for no particular reason except if was beautiful.

“I didn’t know such things existed,” he said. “What is it?”

“That’s the Crossbow nebula as seen from the Perlemian Route. I love this place. Used to exit hyperspace just too look at it when I was in the Republic fleet.” Poe smiled, genuine. “Wanna see more of the same? We’ve got a few days before the rendezvous with Pava.”

/

Two days into it and Finn couldn’t believe it but it was beginning to feel like routine. Waking up, rested and marvelling at the way hyperspace seemed to keep Ren at bay. Exiting to conventional space to some incredible sight and listening to Poe tell stories about it. Lazing the whole morning away making love, chatting, reading manuals or romances or anything Finn could put his hands on. Cooking with synthetic portions in a completely disinhibited way, improving and tweaking and improving again Poe’s – marvellous in Finn’s opinion – synthpizza.

Five days into it and it was time to stop.

“We’ve got time for only one more,” said Poe, all sober and serious. “One I wouldn’t have brought you to if I hadn’t made these deflectors modifications. But I’d really like you to see it. Tannhäuser Gate.”

“Yeah?” said Finn, curious about the near sombre tone. “Let’s go, then.”

“I’ll have to make a sharp U-turn on re-entry. Really sharp, uh? Feeling up to it?”

“Sure.”

/

Poe exited hyperspace at full speed, eyes bright and hands at the ready on the console and that’s when Finn felt the squeeze of his heart that he realised it reminded him of Han and the Falcon on the Starkiller entry.

Then it seemed they were pulled out rather than just exiting. Something, something really huge hauled them through space, not only the ship but Finn’s guts and his eyes and his heart and he thought he’d throw up.

“We’re good,” whispered Poe as he made the ship swivel on its tail and pushed the main thrust as far as it could go. The ship jumped forward and Finn stopped feeling like his insides weren’t quite in the same space-time continuum as himself.

“Hell,” he said. “What was that?”

“Tannhäuser Gate. Perfect exit point as far as hyperspace is concerned, hell once you’re out. The most dangerous gate in the whole Galaxy. But we’re at a safe distance. Look, it’s beautiful.” Under Poe’s hand, the ship took a gentle turn. “There were twin stars here, eons ago. But now the black hole has nearly sucked in the whole of the first star and the second is following suit. Makes for a gorgeous show, doesn’t it? That double spiral of fire with the accretion disk in the background. A bit of a computation nightmare for the astromechs, though.”

Finn smiled. “Hey, BB-8! You did great!”

BB-8’s beeping sounded sort of nonchalantly proud and it made Poe chuckle fondly.

“Yeah,” he said. “He’s had that programmed in since our days at the Academy. It was some kind of unofficial test, space re-entry by the Tannhäuser Gate. Stringently forbidden, which meant that nobody could feel like a real pilot until they did it.”

“Let me guess, you’ve kept doing it often and perfectly since then, haven’t you?”

Poe shook his head and his gaze went searching Finn’s. This was more than another pretty place, Finn realised. And Poe had wanted them to reach this moment all along.

“Not for a long time,” said Poe. “That place is a graveyard. Which I contributed to populate.”

Finn waited. It was a story Poe needed to tell at his own pace.

“I had just defected to the Resistance,” Poe said. “Got a command straight away, flew mission upon mission. Not the glamorous kind. Escorts and recon and sordid little skirmishes with TIEs that were just faster and in better shape than our fighters. And we did well. We believed, we burned with belief and it made us deadly.”

“You still believe,” said Finn, not a question.

“Yes,” said Poe, but his eyes were hard. “So. One day, we stumbled upon one of their destroyers. Can you imagine? A squadron of twenty or so Starfighters, some of them so old and patched up that they were more solder than metal, against that damn huge thing and all those TIEs swarming around. I ordered retreat through hyperspace, they followed us and it became damn burning hot in there. So I thought, that ponderous thing will never do the U-turn on time. I’d have bet his navcomp didn’t know about the Gate, either.”

“But it did?”

“No, it didn’t. Thing is, neither did more than half of our pilots. There were new recruits, some of them private pilots from the Outer Rim, people who don’t have the time or fuel to play with black holes in their spare time. And those who knew didn’t necessarily fly with astromechs who did. Some even flew with pilot-operated navcomps in those days. I – I hoped, well, I had to, you know, I hoped telling them about the manoeuver would be enough. And BB-8 sent his data. But – but of course that didn’t account for the differences in settings and ship models and I, I didn’t manage to convey the timing of the move well enough.”

Finn found Poe’s hand, squeezed. It remained limp, flat on the dashboard.

“The destroyer missed the turn and went past the event horizon. So did eight of ours. The rest of us, we shot the TIEs that didn’t as they came out, one by one.”

Destroyer, thought Finn. Say Finalizer class, crew 1,123 fully manned. Troopers, cooks and nurses, radar and comp techs, ensigns and lieutenants and captains and political officers. A colonel of the Stormtroopers. An admiral. And how many TIE pilots? Plus eight of Poe’s. All dead. War casualties. As far as battle counts went, an unchallenged victory for the Resistance. Was that how Poe saw it?

“Just – just before they got – they got, ah, squashed, the gravity or something did strange things to their radios. We could hear bursts of voices from everyone, Resistance and TIEs and destroyers. So many voices.”

Finn looked at the glorious, beautiful, deadly dark thing belching light at the centre of the spiral and felt grief – Poe’s, his own? – overwhelm him.

“You know,” Poe whispered, “in the Finalizer. When they restrained me and hit me and burnt me and injected me I don’t know what. I kept thinking that I deserved it, that I had deserved it for so long for having killed so many people and not even having been judged for it. It – it helped me hold on, because this wasn’t about the map. It was about that, even if they didn’t know.”

“Oh Force, Poe. Force. I –” but Finn didn’t know how to end his sentence, didn’t know how to alleviate Poe’s guilt. Maybe it was enough for Poe that he’d got that out. In some small way. Maybe Finn could try it too.

“I imagine,” said Finn slowly, watching the star get its essence sucked out by the black hole, “that it looks a little like Starkiller when they began drawing on the sun. I – there were many people in there, too. I never knew how many of lived there exactly, but – but I’d guess more or less like in a destroyer. Lots of operators and techs, of course, oh, and sanitation workers, ha. But not that many assault troops. Seasoned Stormtroopers that came in were for Hux’s or Ren’s guard. Met some of them, knew people. And, and yet I volunteered to destroy it. Destroy them. Did it, too.”

“You didn’t. I shot the oscillator.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t told everyone about the base layout and hadn’t made Phasma shut down the shields. And you were protecting the Resistance base, and let me tell you, at the time, I didn’t care that much about it. Tell me, Poe. You told me once that the Force connects you with all living beings. I – was unconscious at the time, when they died. But I keep hearing their voices in my head. Hearing them, and then not, and I don’t even know if it’s just the guilt or if there really are angry ghosts in some corner of my brain.”

Poe sighed, heavy and nearly a sob. He unbuckled and rose from the pilot’s seat, wedged himself between the console and Finn and undid Finn’s harness in turn. He brought Finn’s forehead against his own. “I remember the silence,” he said. “The silence and the grief, though at the time I didn’t understand. Finn, I take the blame. _I_ killed them, though I can’t regret it. Not this time. But that kind of guilt, yeah. It stays with you, however you try to rationalise it. You live with it. I’m sorry”

“It helped, talking about it,” said Finn, and it really did. “This place is a good place to grieve.”

“Yes,” said Poe. “It does. And it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, finally!  
> I want to stress that I have every intent to finish this and even if the chapters aren't coming in very fast they'll keep on coming. I'll just have to churn them out between a lot of academic work that tends to use the same braincells... But I will!
> 
> About this chapter. Tannhäuser Gate opens also on another sci-fi universe and it felt sort of right at the time. Blade Runner, Roy Batty's monologue. It's on [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoAzpa1x7jU) if you wish to (re)watch it.
> 
> Oh, and might I interest you in a modern Finn/Poe AU I suddenly had to write on the side? African Great Lakes AU, it sort of wrote itself and at least it's complete. [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6328567/chapters/14500174)


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